


Waiting for Sunset

by glowspider



Series: The Uzumaki Conundrum [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2019-09-01 06:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 121,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16759345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowspider/pseuds/glowspider
Summary: It’s been five years since the Uzumakis came to Konoha, and Sasuke has never been better. He’s a freshly minted Jounin with a dark past and a future as bright as his crush’s hair. But change is coming to Konoha, and shadows gather in places even the bravest Shinobi are too afraid to go. Sasuke’s got to survive family drama, rival villages, and terrorist organizations. And maybe, after all that, he’s got a shot at true love.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel to Strangers at the Gates.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a new haircut,” Sasuke announces during their water break, tugging anxiously at his bangs in the way only a self-conscious teenager can.

Sakura, from her spot underneath the large oak tree, snorts in response. Quirking a pink brow, she replies. 

“Why do I get the feeling we’re not really talking about your hair?” 

Sasuke doesn’t bother to respond, instead stretching out in his own patch of cool, green grass. Sakura is a doctor of the body, not the mind, and Sasuke can spot her clumsy attempts at psychoanalytic prodding from a mile away. 

Y’know, for someone whose best friend is a girl, you’d think Sasuke would get good fashion advice.

Haruno Sakura is no ordinary girl, Sasuke thinks with a wince as he adjusts his sore body. His legs and arms are dotted with red-fist size bruises where Sakura’s gloved-fists made contact. From the corner of his eye, he can see her smooth and fair skin, a testament to her regenerative healing seal taught by Konoha’s own Tsunade.

Or, he admits to himself, a testament to her skill. They’d sparred for over an hour, and Sasuke barely managed to land any real hits on his old teammate. And Sasuke, all humbleness aside, is a very good Shinobi.

No, instead of braiding hair and gossip, his best friend likes to beat the shit out of him and mock his nonexistent love-life.

Feeling the blood rushing to his ears, Sasuke takes a few calming breaths in and out. On each exhale, his dark bangs float up from his sweaty forehead.

It’s an annoying sensation, bringing Sasuke back to his original problem.

“I’m serious, Sakura,” he continues. “My career is going nowhere, and I feel like I need to make some changes in my life. Maybe a haircut is the way to go—”

“Oh my GOD,” Sakura interupts, her chortling laughter startling a flock of crows from the nearby trees. “This is because of Naruto!”

Sasuke’s face pinches closed at the mention of his obnoxious rival. “It’s not Naruto!” he shrieks in poorly contained annoyance. “Not everything in my life has to do with Naruto!”

But there’s no stopping Sakura, who’s scooted closer to Sasuke, a growing smile on her face.

“What were his words again? Oh right, something about ‘emo-scene’ hair shaped like a chicken-ass?”

“Duck-butt,” Sasuke corrects automatically before he can stop himself.

“Exactly!” Sakura screeches, an accusing finger jabbed too close to Sasuke’s face. 

Sasuke flinches at the motion, already weary of Sakura’s freakish strength. He curses the day he introduced her to Tsunade.

It seems Sakura picked up on Sasuke’s sudden movement too, from the frown slowly spreading across her fair face.

“I know what your problem is,” she announces, nodding to herself like she’s just solved a difficult puzzle.

“And what would that be?” Sasuke replies dryly, tilting his head back to take a swig of water from his canteen.

“You’ve got blue balls.”

Sasuke spits out his water.

“You’ve spent the past five years thirsting after Naruto, and only Naruto. Going through your entire teen years without sex has killed your machismo.”

Sasuke opens his mouth to protest, but Sakura beats him to it.

“I’m serious, Sasuke! You’re eighteen years old and look like sex on wheels when you bother to shower, but you haven’t gotten any action besides a few sexually-charged wrestling matches with Naruto.”

She throws a muscled arm over his shoulder, leaning close to his ear.

“Seriously, man. You gotta lose the beta male act. Remember when we were back in the academy? All it took was one look, and every civilian girl in a fifty-mile radius would swoon. You used to be a confident, smug asshole. You used to be the Uchiha heir. Rookie of the year. The prince of Konoha!”

Sasuke, despite the mean words, finds himself nodding along in agreement. All his self-respectability went out the window the moment the Uzumakis came to town. The moment he met Naruto.

Naruto, with his goofy smile and terrible jokes. Sasuke’s best friend in the entire world, second only to Sakura. The boy he’s crushing on for five years straight.

“—and that’s why I think you should hang out with me and Ino tonight,” Sakura concludes.

“What?” 

“Tonight, nine thirty, Ino’s house.”

And with that, Sakura gets up, off to shower before heading to a shift at the hospital. 

Sasuke watches her go in mild confusion, only settling back down onto the grass once her pink silhouette has completely disappeared from the horizon.

He gives his bangs another self-conscious tug. 

_Maybe Ino will have some better advice?_

\----

Sasuke arrives at the Yamanaka house at nine thirty-five, only to see Sakura’s familiar pink head waiting for him out on the street.

“It’s rude to make a girl wait,” she mutters, her face flushed red in the cold night air.

“It’s called being fashionably late,” Sasuke spits back. “Maybe a crazy type A personality like yourself hasn’t heard of it.”

Instead of firing back with another insult, Sakura throws her head back and laughs.

“Come on, Mr. Too-Cool-For-School. We have to go in through the back.”

Red flag number one, Sasuke thinks as he hops the white-picket fence that leads to the Yamanaka’s cleanly manicured backyard.

Sakura holds her hand up and Sasuke stops, his Shinobi instincts already going into overdrive. Without noticing, he’s reaching for a kunai—a kunai, he realizes with dismay, he left in the pocket of his sweatpants this morning.

There’s a movement from one of the windows on the second floor, and before Sasuke can duck for cover, it’s being thrown open.

The soft yellow light from the house shines out into the dark backyard, framing Ino’s face like a halo.

Sasuke lets out a silent thank you to the universe for making him gay, because if he wasn’t, he’d probably pass out at the very sight of Ino.

Objectively, Sasuke knows Ino is attractive, from her glossy, platinum hair to her playful pout to her long, graceful limbs. He’s seen her flirt with both civilians and Shinobi alike, seen the way she makes men wither under her very gaze, like she’s above it all and they should be lucky to even catch her eye.

She has a new man on her arm every week like they’re accessories, her trail of destruction only noticeable from the string of broken hearts she leaves behind her. 

The instinctual, animalistic part of Sasuke that’s trained to recognize danger knows Ino is dangerous, as much as her simpering attitude and gentle body language tries to convey otherwise. She is a Yamanaka by blood, trained from birth to pick apart the human mind. 

She’s also quite handy with a set of kunai.

So yes, gazing up at Ino under the pale moonlight, being invited into her bedroom without her parents’ supervision…

Let’s just say if Sasuke were any straighter, he might not survive the night.

There’s a nudge at his back, and Sakura’s voice frantically whispering in his ear.

“Better start climbing, Lover Boy. If you can’t sneak into Ino’s house, how do you think you’re going to get into the Hokage Mansion for late night rendezvous with Naruto?”

Sasuke wants to argue back, because Naruto doesn’t live in the Hokage Mansion with the Yondaime who may or may not be his father, but he knows that Sakura knows that. 

So instead, he starts climbing.

And if he does it with a little more speed and flourish than necessary—well, who’s going to point it out?

\----

Ino’s room is a candy colored nightmare.

Seriously. It’s clearly a childhood bedroom, with its purple painted walls, white shag carpet, and faded glow-in-the-dark stars glued to the ceiling.

Sakura motions for Sasuke to come sit down next to her on Ino’s twin sized bed.

Sasuke does so, and as his hands touch the lacy, flowery, overly fluffy comforter on Ino’s bed, he feels a surge of guilt.

 _I’m such a fucking creep_ , he thinks, staring at his reflection in Ino’s small vanity.

At eighteen years old, he is a grown ass adult, looming over the saccharine sweetness and naivete of this space.

His tall and muscular stature dislodges a few of the decorative pillows from Ino’s bed, his dark and sharp appearance contrasting with the faded and peeling posters of boy bands plastered across Ino’s closet.

And here he was, thinking a visit with Ino would boost his self-confidence.

As if she can sense his disappointment, Ino speaks up.

“Welcome, old friends and newcomers.” She glances in Sasuke’s direction. He resists the urge to squirm under her ice-y stare, knowing that will only make her less impressed.

“As everyone knows, it’s time for the biweekly bitch fest. Tonight, there will be no mention of optimism, no encouraging words of advice, no compliments paid to the incompetent morons of this town. As official hostess and creator of this sacred event, I hereby declare the start. Let the bitching begin!”

With that, Sakura lets out a little whoop of excitement and flops her upper body down onto Ino’s bed.

“Ino, you wouldn't believe the week I’ve had,” Sakura announces, one hand thrown dramatically over her eyes.

“You better have something good hidden under your bed because I am nowhere near brave enough to talk about this shit sober.”

Sasuke’s eyes widen at the mention of sobriety from the usually straight-laced Sakura. Sure, he’s had a few drinks in the past, but the legal drinking age in Konoha is twenty-one. It’s a dumb rule, especially considering that twelve-year-old children are allowed to work as Shinobi, but Sasuke always assumed it was for the benefit of the civilians living here.

Two years ago, Sasuke went out drinking with some of the guys. It was a spur of the moment decision, the kind he probably wouldn’t have agreed to except he’d been in intensive training all day and Kiba spurred him on with a couple insults directed at Sasuke’s masculinity. 

It wasn’t worth it, not when Sasuke stumbled home sloppy drunk. He doesn’t remember much of the night besides vomiting in his own bed. He still pictures the way Obito’s quiet disappointment pulled at the scars on his face. 

He hasn’t touched a drop of booze since then.

So yeah, he’s a little bit shocked when Ino pulls a bottle of rosé out from under her bed. 

“I don’t drink that girly shit,” he protests before he can think twice.

Ino doesn’t even look up from the bottle, popping off the cork with a practiced confidence.

“Sasuke,” she says sweetly, “could you please grab the plastic cups from my night table?”

Sasuke complies for once, his survival instincts finally kicking in.

He passes the cups to her wordlessly, and the smile she shoots him sends chills down his spine.

She pours three glasses, and hands a cup of fizzy pink liquid back to him. 

Studying the drink, Sasuke makes a decision. 

_It’s been one hell of a week_ , he thinks. _So why not?_

“Cheers!” says Ino.

There’s a dull clink as Sasuke, Sakura, and Ino slam their plastic cups together.

\----

“I just wanna know why,” Sakura slurs, “people get so much stuff stuck in their asses!”

Sasuke nods along like it’s profound wisdom, enjoying the way the warmth from Sakura’s lap sinks into the back of his head where it’s resting across her thigh.

“I’ve seen three cases involving kunai-shaped butt plugs this past month,” she cries. “They’re BUTT PLUGS! They’re specifically designed not to get stuck in people’s asses!”

“Maybe,” Ino muses from her perch on the swivel desk chair, “Sasuke has an explanation. Of anyone in Konoha, he’d know the most about taking it up the ass.”

Sasuke glares at her in anger, his face flushed more from alcohol than embarrassment. It’s bad enough that some of his superior officers make jokes, but he thought that the fellow rookies would understand.

“Anyways,” she continues, ignoring the reaction to her comment, “that’s not nearly as bad as my problem.”

“Boy problems?” Sakura asks.

“Men are always going to be a problem,” Ino growls. “No—it’s this new job I started at T&I. All these meatheaded Special Jounin can’t stop staring at my boobs during meetings. You’d think that all those years of training would make them more professional.”

“Sounds like boy trouble to me,” Sakura replies.

Sasuke, still peeved from the Ino’s earlier statement, butts in.

“Maybe you should stop wearing V-neck shirts, and men won’t be as tempted to ogle your cleavage.”

He can feel Sakura’s sudden intake of breath, but his dark eyes are fixed on Ino.

“That’s right,” she says coldly, a smile spreading across her face. “I should be taking fashion advice from the boy who had an existential crisis about his hair this morning!”

“That’s not how it went, and you know it!” shrieks Sasuke, clenching his fists so he doesn’t grab at his hair. 

“I think you’re jealous,” Ino says, pointing her nose up in a sneer. 

Sasuke looks around the cutesy bedroom, childhood memories sprinkled around the room catching his eye like petty little insults or a thousand senbon in his back. He thinks about his cramped apartment and Obito’s often-abandoned bedroom. He thinks about blood stains on hardwood floor, caution tape over the old gates to the Uchiha compound.

Yeah, he’s jealous of the life Ino’s led so far. She and her team of perfect clan kids. Her easy promotion to a prestigious position in the T&I department, while Sasuke’s still not Jounin-rank, fighting for A and B-rank missions. 

He’s jealous of the way people’s eyes slide over Ino in appreciation and adoration, where they shy away from him on the street. He can hear the whispers even now, about how he looks like Itachi, how it’s only a matter of time before he snaps too.

“Yeah Ino,” Sasuke snarls, his lips loosened by booze. “I spend every night wishing I could be a prissy little slut like you!”

Ino stills like she’s been slapped.

‘I’ve heard that insult too many times lately,” she says, voice dangerously level. “But has anyone bothered to knock the great and mighty Uchiha Sasuke down a peg? Has anyone ever told you how fucking annoying you can be? It’s ‘Naruto’ this and ‘My Family’ that. No consideration for the thoughts and feelings of the people around you. No wonder Sakura likes to get drunk with me.”

Sasuke glances back, to see that his best friend has fallen asleep, oblivious to the bitter words being exchanged right now.

“No wonder you’re still a virgin,” Ino finishes, a vindictive gleam in her eye.

“Maybe I just have higher standards than you do,” Sasuke bites back. 

“Yeah,” she says, rolling her eyes. “How could I forget about Naruto?”

All it takes is the name, and Sasuke is responding before he can restrain himself.

“I’m going to marry him one day because I love him. Unlike you, I don’t need to fill the emptiness in my heart with meaningless fucks.”

Ino chortles, deep and breathy, unlike her usual giggle.

“As if Naruto marry you! Get your head out of your ass, Sasuke. He’s practically Konoha royalty—what would he want with a greasy, no-name like yourself?”

And that’s the heart of Sasuke’s problem. He’s not good enough for Uzumaki Naruto.

“Fuck this.”

Sasuke picks himself up off the floor, not looking back as he vaults out Ino’s open window.

\----

He gets back home to a dark and empty apartment, Obito away on another mission.

It’s a good thing too, because Sasuke is very angry, and very, very drunk.

He washes his face before throwing himself onto his bed, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of wet bangs plastered to his face.

Ino’s words are still ringing in his ears.

He hates to admit it, but she had a point.

Naruto is so far out of his league, he’s not even on the same plane of existence. He’s the heir to the Uzumaki clan, and the bastard son of the Hokage, though it’s still legally unconfirmed. 

He’s brilliant with Taijutsu and the Uzumaki style of Fuinjutsu, on par with any special Jounin despite his lack of status. No, Naruto isn’t a mere Shinobi like Sasuke or Sakura. He and Karin, along with his mother, have an entirely different family trade.

They’re diplomats. And while Sasuke normally despises the fat-cat politicians that seem to congregate around the capital city and inside of the Hokage’s office, he’s seen first-hand the positive effect the Uzumakis have on the world.

Just last month, Kushina, Naruto, and Tsunade took a trip to Suna, where they worked out a historic trade agreement between the two villages. A couple days of negotiations and a few meetings between the Kazekage and Hokage, and the Uzumakis had ended a historic rivalry that’s existed since the days of Senju Hashirama. 

Six months ago, Naruto dragged Sasuke with him on a trip to the unoccupied lands of Cloud Country, where they helped multiple civilian towns build a new infrastructure system that would allow easier travel between the settlements.

And yeah, Naruto and his mother were getting up to their usual fare—greeting the local leaders and kissing babies and cracking jokes with the farmers. But the next day, he was out there with the rest of the laborers, laying pavement down on the road under the burning hot sun.

Naruto is only eighteen years old, and he’s already had a more positive impact on the world than Sasuke could ever dream of having. 

And that’s just Naruto’s professional resume. 

In private, he’s wickedly funny and optimistic and high energy. He challenges and engages Sasuke in a way most people are afraid to. He’s seen the ugly sides of Sasuke, but he isn’t afraid. He doesn’t shy away from Sasuke’s intensity or pretend to ignore Sasuke’s scars.

Then there’s the question of Naruto’s looks. He may have the Yondaime’s golden hair and blue eyes, but he inherited his mother’s looks. Tan skin from a life spent under the sun, a small but lithe stature, honed from years of physical training. A round face with shark cheekbones, wide eyes and lips and a surprisingly delicate nose. 

Weird, symmetrical scars on either of his face that come off as playful, rather than creepy.

A smile like the sun.

Sasuke shifts uncomfortably in bed, feeling the spike of arousal that comes with Naruto’s image.

There’s a reason why he’s still too afraid to ask Naruto on a date.

As a clan kid, Sasuke is familiar with the concept of arranged marriages. Usually used for political alliances and power grabs, they’re not so uncommon in the Shinobi world. Sasuke’s own parents were an arranged marriage, the rare kind where both spouses happened to love each other.

But the point is, there are rumors about Naruto. Rumors that he and his cousin will be married off once they’re old enough, to whoever offers the highest bid.

Any person with two eyes and a brain can see the value in an Uzumaki alliance. Automatic connections to Konoha and all of Fire Country, not to mention access to the art of Fuinjutsu. Naruto and Karin are already accomplished political advisors, and their exotic good looks are a nice perk. 

Sasuke knows for a fact that the young Kazekage of Suna has his eye on Naruto, that he has ever since the Chunin Exams five years ago. 

He has his suspicions that the trade agreement with Suna only went so smoothly because of the Kazekage’s fondness for Naruto.

And it's not like it would be a bad match. The Kazekage is an immensely powerful Shinobi, son of the previous Kazekage, and the youngest in history. 

The Jinchuuriki of the One-Tails.

According to every Suna civilian, a fair and kind man. Handsome too, with red hair one shade off from the Uzumakis.

Sasuke thinks back to himself—his inability to make Jounin and his fucked up family history. His shitty haircut and unapproachable personality. 

At best, Sasuke is a vestigial structure; necessary at one point in the past, but utterly useless and impotent now.

How is he supposed to compete with suitors like the Kazekage?

Is he even worthy of Naruto’s affections?

Still drunk and more sad than angry, Sasuke falls asleep with a frown on his face.


	2. Lessons From a Pro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge-ass chapter

Sasuke wakes to the smell of burnt coffee and a pounding headache.

Stumbling out of his bedroom and into the small kitchen, he can make out Tsunade’s blurry outline.

“You’re lucky Obito’s away on a mission,” she mutters, leveling an unimpressed glare at Sasuke over her steaming mug of coffee. “He’d beat your ass if he saw you’d come home hungover again.”

Sasuke wants to correct Tsunade’s misguided assumption. Obito is too much of a pushover to inflict actual punishment on Sasuke. Kakashi, though? He might kick Sasuke’s ass. Or buy him another drink.

Instead of voicing any of this out loud, Sasuke slumps his head onto the wooden table.

Tsunade lets him sit there in misery for about ten minutes while she finishes her coffee.

Sasuke picks his head up at the sound of shifting movement and a sliding chair.

Tsunade jabs her index finger into his forehead, her brown eyes shining with intensity.

“Pull something like this one more time, and I’ll kick your ass so hard you won’t have the digestive system to process alcohol ever again.”

She lets go, letting Sasuke’s limp body slump back onto the table.

_As if Tsunade is one to talk_ , Sasuke thinks with annoyance.

“Hypocrite,” he yells, his statement punctuated by the closing of the front door.

\----

There’s someone knocking insistently on the front door, Sasuke notes with annoyance as he steps out of the shower.

Throwing on a towel, he marches to the front, throwing open the door with Shinobi enhanced strength.

And standing on the little door stop is Yamanaka Fucking Ino.

Her eyes rove hungrily over Sasuke’s wet and exposed form, and Sasuke is slamming the door closed before she can get a word out.

And inch from closing it, five slender fingers wrap around the wood, pushing it back open with a force Sasuke is too lazy to counter.

Reluctantly, he makes eye contact.

Ino looks unpolished, for lack of a better word.

For once, her face is free of makeup, her teenage acne scars and laugh lines around her lips visible.

She’s dressed in a large, threadbare sweater and faded black leggings—the articles of clothing are something closer to what Sakura might wear, instead of Ino’s designer-brand wardrobe.

Even her hair, usually pulled into a perfect glossy ponytail, is a bit askew. When the wind picks up, he can see all the flyaways around her face before they settle back onto her matted scalp.

It’s such a drastic contrast from usual that Sasuke doesn’t know what to do. Immediately, his mind leaps for explanations. Is she here to break the news that something terrible has happened? Is Akatsuki attacking the village? Is Orochimaru back? Is Sakura okay? Obito? Kakashi? 

“I want to apologize,” she says.

Sasuke blinks dully as he processes her words.

He knows a few mean insults were traded last night, but this? Yamanaka Ino has never apologized for anything in her life. Usually, it's Shikamaru or Choji hastily making apologies for her while they drag Ino away, mouth frothing with anger.

She sighs before continuing.

“I’m not your biggest fan, and you’re not mine, but Sakura seems to like you well enough, so I figured I’d make peace.”

Sasuke frowns, the familiar feeling of anger growing in his gut by the second.

“I don’t want your bullshit apology. Not if the only reason you’re apologizing is because of Sakura.”

“It’s not,” Ino fires back insistently. “What I said last night wasn’t fair—I was drunk and angry and had a really shitty week, and you were an easy target.”

“Oh,” Sasuke breathes. He wasn’t expecting that, but he can understand the feeling. From the amount of shit Sasuke’s pulled over the years, he’s amazed that all of his friends and family are still so patient and forgiving.

“I’m sorry too,” he finds himself saying.

They both stand there in uncomfortable silence for a few seconds.

Ino rubs her arms together self-consciously before speaking again.

“Anyways, I came to offer actual help, so if you could let me in, we can get this over with.”

Sasuke’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “Help?” 

“Duh,” Ino replies, rolling her eyes. “You said last night that you want to woo Naruto. How do you think you’re going to do that without my help?”

_Oh, hell no._

Sasuke slams the door again, only to have it catch on Ino’s foot.

She shoves it back open, pushing her way past Sasuke’s stunned form and into the foyer.

“I’m impressed,” she says, eyes roving over the apartment. “For a bachelor pad, this place is surprisingly clean. But I’m going to assume that’s because Obito lives here too.”

Wrong, Sasuke thinks. If anyone is the neat freak around here, it's him. Obito has miserable packrat tendencies that Sasuke’s been trying to break him of for over a decade now.

“You’ve got a great physique,” Ino continues, laying a prodding finger on Sasuke’s still-damp abs. “And good bone structure, though that’s to be expected of an Uchiha.”

Sasuke’s heard that phrase many times, though usually from creepy old ladies and stalker fangirls.

“It’s a matter of presentation,” Ino concludes, already marching into Sasuke’s bedroom as he scrambles after her.

“Yes,” she says, turning around to face him, “If we can make you pretty enough, Naruto might not notice your...personality.”

Sasuke doesn’t know whether he’s more offended for himself or on Naruto’s behalf. But then again, Sasuke has a total of two friends—to say he has a prickly personality is an understatement. And as for Naruto, well, the boy is oblivious enough that he hasn’t picked up on Sasuke’s crush after five long years. 

\----

Ten minutes later, and it looks like a hurricane has swept through Sasuke’s room. 

Ino’s form is completely obscured by his closet., her muffled voice wafting through the pile of wrinkled clothes.

“You have to stop with the sweatpants and athletic gear every day,” she remarks, tossing another pair of heart embroidered underpants in Sasuke’s direction. “Seriously! It’s like you’re telling Naruto that you don’t want to make an effort for him.”

Her blonde head pops out into the open, and she’s moving towards Sasuke with a bundle of clothes before he can back away.

“Here,” she says, passing him a white button up shirt and charcoal slacks. “Simple and classy is timeless.”

Sasuke grumbles to himself before wandering off to the bathroom to change.

He doesn’t stop to look at the mirror until he’s got the shirt buttoned up.

And breathes in sharply.

Dressed like this, Sasuke feels like an adult. He feels handsome and confident. Like a proper Uchiha.

Looking in the mirror gets harder with every passing year. Sasuke could only spend so many hours thinking about how he looked like a carbon copy of his brother—how when he finally managed to get past that, all he could see were the ugly scars from a lifetime as a Shinobi. A weapon for the state, and nothing more.

And below all of that, the scared six-year-old boy.

It’s no surprise he’s been letting himself go, not when that’s the reality he’s confronted with when he gazes at his reflection.

But like this? Sasuke makes eye contact with himself in the mirror, and feels okay.

He pushes his bangs up out of his face, admiring it in a rare moment of vanity. He looks like a proper clansman, regal and powerful the way Tsunade does in her rare moments of sobriety. A long, thin nose and a flat mouth. Slanted eyes and longer eyelashes Sakura likes to compliment him on when he’s acting too macho. Dark eyebrows and an unblemished forehead.

His broad shoulders fill out the shirt, the stiff fabric falling naturally down his chest. He doesn’t care so much about his body, but drawing Ino’s gaze earlier didn’t hurt too much.

He walks back out to the bedroom, careful to wipe the inkling of a smile off his face.

“It’s stiff and formal,” he complains, once he enters.

“Then roll up the sleeves, idiot,” Ino says.

He does so and is pleased to find that his range of movement feels far less constricted. 

Ino must catch the hint of a smile on his face, because she throws her arms up and lets out a joyful whoop.

“I guess it's nice,” Sasuke admits shyly.

Ino flashes him a knowing smile, gesturing towards a neatly folded pile of clothes on Sasuke’s bed.

“I’ve picked out ‘acceptable outfits’ for you to wear when you’re not training or on missions. If we get you a haircut and you remember to shower each day, you’ll be getting Naruto’s attention in no time.”

Sasuke blinks in confusion. 

“That’s it? All I needed to woo the so-called ‘Prince of Konoha’ was a wardrobe change and better personal hygiene habits?” 

“Well no,” Ino replies, frowning at Sasuke’s outburst. “We gotta work on your personality a bit.”

“My personality,” Sasuke says flatly. “So, what you’re saying is that in order to get Naruto to like who I am, I need to change myself on a fundamental level?”

“Of course not, idiot,” says Ino, already rising from her perch on Sasuke’s bed. 

“I just think that you need to be more comfortable with yourself before you try to get into a relationship with another person.”

“I don’t know, Ino,” he says dryly, “I think I’m pretty comfortable in my own skin, considering the fact that I opened the door to you in just a towel.”

Ino turns sharply, her glare sending shivers down Sasuke’s spine.

“I’m not talking about physical wellbeing, Sasuke. I’m talking about your mentality! And considering that I’m a Yamanaka, I’d like to think that I’m the resident expert here.”

Sasuke doesn’t have enough energy to muster up a protest, so he lets himself be dragged out the front door of his apartment, onto the streets of Konoha.

\----

Ten minutes and a brisk walking pace later, Sasuke and Ino are settled underneath the cherry trees of Founder’s Park.

From the other end of the row, he can make out broader details of the bronze Uzumaki Mito statue.

He’s glad her face is obscured from view—he’s not sure how he feels about having a conversation about wooing Naruto with the Uzumaki matriarch looming over them.

Ino coughs, pulling Sasuke’s attention away from his staring contest with the Shodaime’s wife.

“We have to have a game plan,” Ino states, folding her hands together like they’re talking battle strategy.

“So, for the next three days, we’re going into overtime. Obviously, the road to good mental health habits isn’t obtainable in that short of a time, or at all, really, but I figure if we give you a boot camp you can get a head start—”

“What’s happening in three days?” Sasuke interrupts, his brain finally catching up to his ears.

“Naruto comes back in three days,” Ino says, like it's the clearest thing in the world.

And _duh_ , of course Sasuke knows when Naruto is going to be back in town, just like he knows Obito will be home on Friday, and Sakura is leaving two weeks from now.

But what does that have to do with anything?

Ino snaps in front of his face to get his attention.

“As I was _saying,_ we only have three days to get you presentable for Naruto. He’s Konoha’s most eligible bachelor, Sasuke! If you don’t pick him up soon, somebody else will.”

Sasuke lets out a growl at that, images of the young Kazekage flashing through his head.

“And besides,” Ino adds, “It’s rude to keep a boy waiting. Naruto isn’t going to turn down dates forever.”

_Come again?_

\----

Ino, Sasuke soon discovers, is actually pretty good at this mental wellbeing crap.

As Ino continues talking, Sasuke realizes he’s been living in denial. He hasn’t been to a therapist since he was small enough for Kakashi to lift, and his stoic exterior is the perfect disguise for all the shit he’s been bottling up these past few years.

“There is no cure for mental illness,” Ino explains calmly, her voice clinical and calm. “It’s like having good teeth. You have to brush them every day and go to regular checkups to the dentist if you want to maintain that level of cleanliness.”

Sasuke nods along, surprised at how well this metaphor fits into his worldview.

“And there’s nothing worse than trying to enter into a relationship with someone else when you don’t love yourself,” Ino adds, reaching out for Sasuke’s hands before he can pull away.

“If you go into this relationship thinking Naruto is going to fix all your problems for you, you’ll be calling it quits before the month is over. It’s not fair to him, and it’s not fair to you.”

Sasuke tilts his head away. He’d never thought of it that way.

“Anyways,” Ino continues, sensing that Sasuke wants to change the subject, “I’ve got the perfect plan to fix up your self-esteem.”

Sasuke lets out an annoyed huff. He doesn’t feel as bad as Ino is making it out to be, damn it.

“And if we can make you feel better about yourself, maybe you’ll start being nicer to other people too.”

Sasuke likes the sound of that even less.

\----

“This is utterly embarrassing,” Sasuke groans to Ino as their eyes follow Shikamaru’s retreating form.

The two of them are crammed into a small booth at the back of a popular barbeque restaurant, the bench across from them empty now that Ino’s teammate has left.

Ino’s plan, when it comes down to it, is to make Sasuke go on practice dates till he snaps from the tediousness of it all. Or the public humiliation.

Even now, she’s got a clipboard in her hands, notes scribbled in the margins over her meticulously printed schedule.

She’s having different Shinobi come in back-to-back for thirty-minute slots, during which Sasuke makes awkward conversation and plasters fake smiles across his face.

Sasuke doesn’t ask how Ino managed to get so many people to agree to this, because the offer of free food only works so many times. Whatever she did, it probably wasn’t legal.

Sasuke’s already on his third cup of tea, and the only person he’s talked to so far has been Shikamaru. 

And Shikamaru is one of the few Shinobi that Sasuke can actually stand.

He’s dreading whoever Ino’s bringing in next.

\----

“Sasuke!” Lee says through a mouthful of chicken, “I am intrigued by this new training regimen you are starting. If you would like training in the future, please consider me as a potential partner.”

Already sensing the blush forming on his cheeks, Sasuke thanks the gods that Sakura isn’t here to hear this. If she were, she might think Sasuke is coming onto her boyfriend. 

“Definitely, Lee,” Sasuke chokes out after a sharp nudge from Ino. “I like to think we can all better ourselves mentally.”

“And where the mind goes, the body follows,” Lee concludes gravely.

A quick glance at his watch reveals that only three minutes have passed since Lee sat down.

This is going to be a long ‘date.’

\----

“So…” Sasuke starts, stalling for time. He can see his reflection in Shino’s dark glasses, the man’s unresponsive body creeping him out even more. “Do you have names for your bugs?”

Shino wordlessly extends a hand across the table, and reveals, palms up, three black dots in it.

“Spot, Tiny, and Shino Jr.” he replies, gesturing to each bug as he does so.

Sasuke leans forward, squinting at the small creatures. Spot doesn’t have any identifying marks, Tiny doesn’t seem particularly different in size, and Shino Jr.’s likeness to his namesake ends at, well, everything.

He’s got thirty minutes left to ask a question he’s always wondered about.

“How do you tell them apart?”

\----

“I see you still haven't made it to Jounin,” Sai states flatly. 

Sasuke starts to sneer at his old teammate, but a sharp kick from Ino ends that behavior.

He counts down from ten before speaking again.

“Nope,” Sasuke replies, forcing out a shark-like smile. “And how is the ANBU?”

Sai seems taken aback at Sasuke’s response, used to outbursts from the Uchiha.

“It’s...good,” he settles on. 

Sasuke doesn’t begrudge him the short answer. He knows that Sai can’t say much about his job without causing a huge breach of confidentiality.

“I’ve been doing some nature photography lately,” Sai tacks on, his conversation skills possibly worse off than even Sasuke’s.

“Oh?” Sasuke says, will to latch onto any detail to make this less excruciating for the both of them. “Do you have any pictures with you?”

\----

Pitch black eyes meet pale lilac, and Sasuke’s mouth runs dry.

He has nothing in common with Hyuuga Hinata.

Well, nothing beyond the surface level. Both from great clans of Konoha, members of the branch family, late-bloomers in terms of awakening the Sharingan and Byakugan. And from what Sasuke’s heard, Hinata also got passed up for a Jounin promotion recently.

A swell of uncharacteristic pity runs through him at the thought. Unlike his own family, Hinata’s is alive and well. He can imagine them now, dark hair and clear eyes, otherworldly in their uniformity, but all too real in their punishments.

A girl like Hinata, a shy and gentle soul, must struggle terribly under their watchful eyes. And Sasuke, like most in Konoha, has heard the rumors of her younger sister.

They say she’s a prodigy like no other, already surpassing Neji when he was her age. As someone who’s sparred with Neji on many occasions, Sasuke shudders at the thought.

Sasuke can relate to the ‘growing up with a genius sibling’ situation. Uchiha Itachi is an omnipresent spectre in Sasuke’s life. Every flash of red out of the corner of his eyes, every crow that flies by at dusk, even Sasuke’s own reflection late at night.

And the horror might not be the same when Hinata thinks of her little sister, but there is still a constant pressure there. The kind that’s made her retreat in on herself, where Sasuke has instead grown thorns for protection.

He gazes at her in this new light and thinks, maybe we aren’t so different.

So, Sasuke makes idle conversation.

\----

There are many others afterwards—Tenten stops by, as does Choji, who stuffs his mouth so full he barely has time to talk. There’s still marks in Sasuke’s palms from where he dug his nails in in irritation while talking to Kiba. Neji finally deigns to show up, and he and Sasuke trade barbs back and forth, much to Ino’s growing concern. Still, she doesn’t say anything when she sees the small smiles on the two Shinobi’s faces.

Thankfully, Ino hadn’t asked any of the superior officers to come in, nor the Sarutobi kid or anyone in that cohort.

Sasuke can only imagine the embarrassment he would feel if someone like Anko or Genma blabbed to Obito. Or, god, if Kakashi decided to come in a moment of uncharacteristic proactivity.

The situation becomes even more humiliating when Sasuke considers the possibility of getting dating advice from a bunch of thirteen-year-olds.

So, as odd as the day may have been, Sasuke makes it out in one piece.

He even enjoyed hanging out with Ino’s friends, for the most part. He’s seeing them in a new light, beyond just potential coworkers and battle assets. 

Kiba is in a book club with his mom that meets every other Saturday. Tenten likes doing fortune telling as a hobby. Choji collects postcards from every big town they visit on missions.

All crap that Sasuke wouldn’t be interested in, except he finds himself sharing information too. His daily breakfast routine with Obito or any given substitutes. His pitiful attempts to teach himself how to play piano recently. The volunteer work he does at the local cat shelter.

And everyone is interested in what he has to say. Real, personal information. Not just his new Sharingan techniques or his skincare routine or any other vapid details.

By the end of the day, Sasuke’s free time in the next two weeks is completely booked up with plans. A Shogi tournament with Shikamaru, a sunrise yoga session with Lee. 

What surprises him most are Hinata’s parting words.

\----

“I hope everything works out with you and Naruto,” she blurts out, dark bangs falling onto her face and obscuring her expression.

Sasuke stiffens, then relaxes.

“Thank you. I hope it works out, too.”

“No,” Hinata exclaims. “I’m serious about this, Sasuke.”

Sasuke flinches back in surprise, the volume and intensity uncharacteristic of Hinata.

“I shouldn’t be telling this,” she continues, her cheeks growing redder, “But I want to be honest with you. I asked Naruto out a couple of months ago.”

Sasuke’s eyes narrow.

“He turned me down, and I got over it. No hard feelings.”

Sasuke lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding onto.

“But he told me something before he turned me down. He said he was waiting for someone in particular, even if he wasn’t sure if they’d ever be ready too.”

Sasuke’s jaw drops. Ino, from the corner of his eye, seems completely unruffled.

“I had my doubts that the person he was waiting for would ever be ready. Seeing you today, I’ve changed my mind.”

And with those words and one last encouraging smile, Hinata gets up to leave.

Sasuke’s heart is beating so loud that he can’t hear her footsteps on the wooden floor.

\----

When it’s all said and done, Sasuke turns to Ino.

Her steely blue eyes are fixed to the clipboard, scouring over notes she’s made through the day. 

_Too engrossed in her findings to say goodbye, I guess_ , Sasuke thinks with fond grumpiness.

He motions to get up, but Ino’s hand is grabbing his bicep and pulling him swiftly back onto the booth.

“There’s one more appointment today, Sasuke.”

And the front door to the restaurant is thrown open, only to a reveal a familiar pink head of hair. Sasuke looks back and forth from Sakura’s approaching form to Ino in confusion.

“You did good today,” Ino says, a sly grin on her lovely face. “I figured I’d give you a reward. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you and my best friend to it.”

And with that, she’s pulling herself up out of the seat.

Sakura is sliding into the vacant seat a second later and pulling Sasuke into a crushing hug-turned-noogie before he can protest.

As annoying as it is to have his hair mussed up, Sasuke finds himself laughing.

He’s got so much to tell Sakura.

\----

Sasuke wakes the next morning with a smile on his face. And instead of shrinking back from his own reflection in the mirror like usual, he leans in closer.

He spends so long admiring himself in the mirror that when he stumbles out to the kitchen, Ino already has coffee and toast spread out on the table.

Wait. Ino?

Sasuke blinks once, then twice before rubbing at his eyes to make sure it’s Ino standing before him.

And yes, that platinum blonde hair is unmistakable.

Somehow, Ino managed to snag the guest spot at Obito’s breakfast.

Rather than question it, Sasuke sits down and digs into his toast.

Across from him, Ino rolls up the newspaper she’s reading, inching towards Sasuke until she’s within hitting distance.

A hard swat on his nose, and Sasuke is dropping his toast onto the table in surprise.

“Manners!” Ino shrieks, too loud and high-pitched for this early in the morning. “Clearly, you weren’t raised in a barn.’

_Right._

“Thank you for making breakfast, Ino,” Sasuke grumbles out, doing his best to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Ino seems satisfied, though, because she settles back into her chair and unfurls the newspaper to continue reading.

When Sasuke finishes his toast and coffee, he looks up expectantly.

“What’s on the schedule for today?” he asks, feeling more excitement than dread, though he would never admit that out loud.

An unsettling smile inches up Ino’s face, and nope, the excitement turns to dread just like that.

“You’ll see.”

\----

“One more lap around the village, my youthful pupil,” Gai shouts over his shoulder.

Sasuke doesn't even have enough breath to let out a groan, he’s been running for so long.

If Ino’s plan is to replace his usual nightmares of hypnotizing red eyes with green spandex jumpsuits and bowlcuts, she’s certainly succeeding.

Sasuke’s on his fourth hour of Gai’s special self-care regimen, and he’s not sure he’s going to survive this. Not only is it physically strenuous—more challenging than all of Sasuke’s A-rank missions combined—but it’s emotionally taxing.

At randomly selected points during each rep, Gai will do a “sound off.”

The only catch is that the “sound off” is messages of self-love.

Case in point, Gai’s head swivels back around, an expectant smile smeared on his face.

“I’m a good person,” Sasuke groans out between desperate gulps of air.

“I can’t hear you!” Ino calls from the bike she’s riding along the sidewalk.

“I’M A GOOD PERSON!” Sasuke screams desperately.

“And…?” Ino prods.

“I AM LOVED!” Sasuke screams.

The burning sensation in his limbs increases tenfold with every step he takes. There’s a cramping in Sasuke’s chest, sharp to the pint that it feels like someone has jammed a kunai between his ribs. His dark hair is plastered to his forehead with moisture, and every few seconds he has to lift a shaky hand to rub the sweat from his eyes, lest it blur his vision out.

This—the running, the shouting, the stupid cheesy messages straight out of a self-help book, it’s all too much for Sasuke.

There’s a rushing sound in his ears as all the details of the cozy streets of Konoha start to fade out of sight.

The rhythm of his feet hitting the ground is punctuated by flashes of red dots, which start to materialize into something larger.

Sasuke nearly loses his footing as the image coalesces into his mother’s body in a pool of blood, Itachi’s young form hovering over it.

“Say it AGAIN!” Ino shouts, snapping Sasuke out of his nightmare.

“I AM LOVED!” he relays back, Itachi’s Mangekyou still hovering in his mind.

“Again!”

“I AM LOVED!”

And the image morphs to a different red.

A small red dress, which should clash with the girl’s pink hair but somehow doesn’t. Sakura’s Genin-aged face peering around a tall library shelf. The first time they met properly. The start of their friendship.

The red of Kushina’s hair glinting in the sun set, that first day the Uzumakis came to Konoha. Naruto’s mottled red and blue chakra, marking his first introduction to the boy.

The red of Kakashi’s eye behind his mask. The one that perfectly matches Obito’s own.

Obito’s smile, when Sasuke came back from that first mission where he awakened the Sharingan. Both of them staring at his eyes in the mirror, a proud look on Obito’s face.

Sasuke’s so caught up in his memories, he doesn’t even notice where the curb juts out into the street. He doesn’t hear Ino’s panicked warning, or notice Gai’s desperate lunge to catch him.

He doesn’t notice when his foot snags and his body falls shifts forward with momentum.

And when Sasuke’s eyes finally do snap open, his head is less than a foot from the pavement. Too late to even catch himself with his hands.

\----

“Oh my god!” Ino shrieks, when Sasuke finally lifts his head up from the hard, hard concrete.

There’s a mighty scratch on his cheek, and his teeth are red from bleeding, but Sasuke can’t see that.

The rest of his body is so exhausted that he can barely register the pain, much less care about how he looks.

“I am loved,” he repeats back, flashing a horrifying smile at Ino and Gai, who are still hovering over him in nervousness.

“Let's call it on today's training session,” Ino comments worriedly.

“Agreed,” says Gai.

And Sasuke feels relieved.

Not because this excruciating practice is over, though that’s certainly a perk.

No—Sasuke has had a more important revelation than that.

Sasuke may not have a big family, or a conventional one. Not anymore.

But Sasuke has people who love him. People who would go to the ends of the earth and back to ensure his happiness and health. People he would do the same for.

Nothing is going to change that.

\----

By the time Ino drags Sasuke back to his apartment, the blood has caked on his face. Still, he can make out the familiar shapes of Sakura and Lee waiting outside his door. Ino must have phoned ahead while Sasuke was still dazed.

The moment Sakura’s green eyes fix on Sasuke, she’s rushing towards him and pulling his face into her gloved hands without hesitation.

“I leave you alone for one day and you manage to smash open half your face!” She scolds, oblivious to the guilty look on Ino’s face.

“Sorry,” Sasuke squeezes out through swollen cheeks. He winces as soon as he opens his mouth, the cuts causing a sharp stinging sensation.

Sakura doesn’t react to the pitiful apology, he focus set on channeling smooth, green chakra from her fingertips into Sasuke’s face. Sasuke breathes a sigh of relief as the nerve endings in his face go numb and the throbbing sensation finally fades out.

Once Sasuke’s breathing comfortably again, Sakura grabs him by the crook of his elbow and drags him into the apartment. Ino and Lee trail behind, too afraid to get in her way.

\----

Twenty minutes later and Sasuke is good as new, thanks to Sakura’s practiced hand.

“For what it’s worth,” Ino comments from her seat at the kitchen table, “you lasted an hour more than Sai did.”

“Sai did that training routine?” Sasuke screeches. He can’t even fathom that, the image of Sai jogging through Konoha shouting messages of self-love too comical to be true.

“Well, duh. Do you think you’re the only pity-case I’ve taken on?”

Sasuke doesn’t respond to that, because yeah, he kind of did think that.

“Thirty-two laps around Konoha is quite impressive,” Lee adds, doing his best to cheer up Sasuke.

“It’s also not safe to run that much without proper preparation,” Sakura growls out, leveling an icy glare at Ino.

“We thought he would quit hours ago,” Ino mutters. “And besides, if the ANBU uses this tactic, surely Sasuke should be able to handle it!”

Now that’s new information to Sasuke.

“Gai trains ANBU squads?”

“Not quite,” Sakura replies, pink eyebrows furrowing in concern and annoyance. She can smell bad ideas from a mile away, especially if they’re related to Sasuke in any way. “The ANBU uses a variant of that training. They put Shinobi under extreme mental and physical duress. The idea is to break you down and build you back up again.”

Sasuke pushes his chair out, standing up swiftly. 

“I need to get back out there,” he declares. If he can’t make it through Ino’s modified training version, how is Sasuke supposed to make ANBU one day?

“Sit your ass back down,” Sakura bites out, every bit Tsunade’s student in that terrifying moment.

Sasuke obeys instinctually.

“The ANBU _used_ to use that training. Before actual trained medical professionals got involved and put a stop to the harmful practice. Turns out that extreme, systematic hazing and abuse doesn’t make Shinobi any stronger.”

Sasuke has a feeling a certain blonde Shinobi was behind the change in policy.

“It also explains why Kakashi and the other Jounin-Sensei are so fucked in the head,” Sakura adds sweetly.

“Oh please,” Ino retorts. “Kakashi and the others of that generation are suffering from war PTSD, more than some silly training routine.”

“The ANBU training technique exacerbates those conditions,” Sakura replies tersely.

Ino’s eyes narrow in annoyance, but before she can respond, Lee interjects.

“Why don’t we go, Sakura? Or are we postponing our date again?”

Damn if Lee isn’t a master at emotional manipulation, because Sakura caves at the sight of his big, brown eyes and downturned mouth.

“I can’t believe I forgot!” she cries out in embarrassment.

Sakura jumps up from her chair, murmuring out apologies and goodbyes, backing out of the apartment in the same whirlwind she appeared in, Lee in tow behind her.

“Well, today has been exciting,” Ino comments dryly, once Sakura and Lee are out of sight.

Sasuke hums in thought, the exhaustion from the past few days finally catching up with him.

“If you don’t need anything, I’m going to head out.”

“Okay,” Sasuke replies despondently.

Ino’s pretty face contorts with something like concern.

“You’re good, right?”

“Yeah. I am.”

And Sasuke is surprised to find he really means it.

\----

The Yondaime is in his kitchen.

Namikaze Minato, the legendary Shinobi of Konoha, is in his kitchen.

Others would be jealous to hear that this isn’t the first time the Hokage has filled in as Sasuke’s breakfast buddy, not that Sasuke tells many people about the weird mealtime tradition.

And besides, the last time he saw the Hokage in this context was when he was twelve years old. Back when he was plucky and confident and stupid.

Certainly, it was before he started crushing on the man’s illegitimate son.

Sasuke realizes, with burning dread, that this man might one day be his father-in-law.

Well, some might say that’s a bit of a reach, but Sasuke has always dreamed big.

The man doesn’t see Sasuke from his angle, and the expression on his face makes Sasuke second guess whether he should interrupt. The Hokage’s forehead is wrinkled and his eyes are narrowed. He’s mouthing something to himself, but Sasuke can’t make out what it is.

When Sasuke clears his throat, the Hokage turns sharply in his direction, his face smoothing out into something less serious.

“Good morning, Sasuke,” the Hokage says warmly, his blue eyes twinkling in the morning sun.

“Morning Hokage-sama,” he replies, snapping to attention the way Kakashi drilled into him so many years.

Like a scene straight out of Sasuke’s nightmare, the Hokage laughs at his salute. Sasuke glances up and down at himself to make sure he isn’t forgetting his pants or some equally horrid embarrassment. Nope—everything is in order. 

Is there something on his face? Was Obito showing off baby pictures again? Did the Hokage find out about the Naruto situation?

“No need for formalities here. Please, sit down,” the Hokage prompts.

Sasuke does so without question.

“I’ve had a busy morning, so I only had time to buy breakfast today,” the man says, procuring a bag of bagels from his bleached white robes. He almost looks apologetic, as if he was letting Sasuke down by not cooking for him.

“It’s fine!” Sasuke shouts abruptly. 

“I mean, um, you don’t have to go through all this effort for me.”

The Hokage tilts his head at the comment, his eyebrows scrunched together like he’s trying to solve a problem he hasn’t yet encountered. Then, as if the solution has come on like an epiphany, his expression smoothes back out, all signs of distress gone like they were never there in the first place.

“Nonsense! You’re Nar—I mean, you’re Obito’s charge! And as the saying goes, the student of my student is my friend.”

Sasuke has never heard the phrase before. In fact, he’s 95% sure that the Hokage made that up on the spot. Not that he’s going to correct one of the most powerful Shinobi in Konoha on the fact.

Sasuke settles for reaching for a bagel.

Breakfast with the Hokage is nice, if a bit awkward.

The closest thing Sasuke can think of is his interactions with Sakura’s parents, if they were his bosses in the scenario. 

Sasuke details his experiments with the Sharingan and Uchiha techniques, which the Hokage is absolutely delighted to hear about. He’s an attentive listener and an even better conversationalist, asking intriguing questions and offering theories and ideas Sasuke had never thought of before.

Once they exhaust the shop-talk, the Hokage starts asking Sasuke about his personal life. Sasuke is careful to omit any information about one Uzumaki Naruto that might trigger the Hokage’s dad-senses, but he finds himself relaxing once he starts talking about Naruto in the context of sparring sessions and ramen dinners. After all, Naruto is a close friend, just like Sakura and sometimes Sai and Ino and Shikamaru. 

Sasuke finds himself gushing about the camping trip he has planned with Obito in a couple weeks, which gets the Hokage talking about his own memories of wilderness overnighters.

Most of them involve one Uzumaki Kushina, which has Sasuke wondering how the Hokage could have ever been the best Shinobi of his generation, he’s so obvious about his affection. The man might as well have hearts in his eyes, for how subtle he’s being right now.

Still, it’s kind of sweet. Sasuke wonders offhandedly if Naruto has ever heard any of these stories himself.

And then the Hokage starts talking about what camping trips with his Genin. Sasuke finds himself laughing along, glad to have extra blackmail material on Obito and Kakashi.

Before he knows it, an hour has passed.

The Hokage checks his watch frantically, realizing he’s overdue for a meeting with some local civilian entrepreneurs.

“I’m sure Tsunade is handling things just fine,” he justifies, and Sasuke snorts at that. Tsunade wouldn’t know diplomacy if she punched it in the face.

“I really should be going. But this was fun!”

And the Hokage disappears from the kitchen in a brilliant flash of light.

When Sasuke finally blinks the color out of his sight, he sees a scroll left in the Hokage’s seat.

Opening it carefully, Sasuke is surprised to find an official summons to the Hokage’s office for later today.

His confusion is interrupted by a knocking at the door.

\----

‘What do you mean, you’re confused?” 

“I mean, Ino, that I had breakfast with the Hokage this morning. It would make more sense if he just mentioned it or handed it to me directly. Also, he seemed bothered by something this morning.”

Ino groans in annoyance at Sasuke’s pitiful reasoning.

“He’s the Hokage, Sasuke! He’s always concerned with something! And maybe he likes to keep his business and personal lives separate. Coming to breakfast was clearly a personal favor to Obito.”

“But why would I get a personal summons?”

Sasuke’s already thinking of the worst possible news. Obito not making it back from his mission. Another Itachi sighting. A demotion back to Genin for Sasuke, though it makes absolutely no sense for that to be the case.

“It’s probably fine,” Ino says, her tone uncharacteristically gentle.

Sasuke squints his eyes shut and tries to imagine that that’s actually the case. He’s still working on this whole ‘positive thinking’ thing.

“In any case,” Ino continues, “I guess you get out of training today.”

\----

Sasuke is sitting uncomfortably in the waiting room chairs. He seems to overshadow the room with his dark hair and long legs, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the warm walls and patterned carpet.

The receptionist ladies, who have worked here as long as Sasuke can remember, glance at him occasionally to make sure he’s doing alright. He’s been offered water and those butter cookies from a large tin about three times, and he’s careful to politely decline them each time. For all their silvery hair perms and reading glasses, he’s sure that these receptionists are handy with a kunai or two. The long sleeves they wear are just right to cover any old ANBU tattoos, not that Sasuke would ever ask such a prying question.

He’s seen how Kakashi avoids talking about his time in the service, how Sai’s vacant stare covers for more than his social awkwardness.

Before Sasuke can continue on that dark train of thought, there’s a jingling of bells above the door frame, and Hyuuga Hinata’s lovely face appears.

“I’m here for an appointment summons with the Hokage,” she says, her voice quiet but steady.

“Of course, sweetie,” one of the receptionists beams at Hinata. “Please have a seat.”

Hinata thanks the women with a polite bow before turning around and taking the seat directly next to Sasuke.

They don’t say much to each other, each too introverted to strike up a conversation, but Sasuke feels comforted by the girl’s presence.

He wonders how he would’ve felt about the situation before their conversation two days ago. Before Ino’s self-care and confidence boot camp.

He doesn’t have to wonder for too long, because the engraved wooden double doors to the Hokage’s office open up, and the two of them are ushered inside.

Once they’re settled in cushy chairs in front of the Hokage's massive and messy desk, the Hokage starts.

“I’m glad both of you made it, despite the late notice,” he says, his hands primly folded in front of him to offset the casualness of his smile.

“Of course, Hokage-sama,” Hinata replies.

Sasuke bows his head as confirmation.

“We had a situation this morning, one that's changed the circumstances for both of you.”

Sasuke tilts his head in confusion at that, wondering what sort of commonality there is between him and Hinata. He looks over at Hinata, her dark hair falling in heavy waves around her aristocratic face and near-translucent eyes.

And then it dawns on him. They’re both clan kids. Possessors of two powerful bloodline limits. Both of them are being held back as Chunin.

“Is it a clan issue?” he questions, his brain coming up empty on what has the Hokage speaking so seriously with the both of them.

“Of sorts. This morning, we received an unexpected parcel. After having Tsunade and a few other trained sensors scan it over, we determined that it was Orochimaru’s decapitated head.”

Now there’s a name Sasuke hasn’t heard in a while. The third mighty Sanin, whose technical knowledge paralleled even the Yondaime’s. He was banished from the village before Sasuke was even born, the reasons vague in official press releases and records. Sasuke has asked a few times out of curiosity, but everyone—Tsunade, Jiraiya, Kakashi, even Anko, Orochimaru’s own student—has stuck to the script.

Still, there are rumors. Grave desecration, human experimentation, even high treason. Sasuke thought it was all exaggeration until the year he participated in the Chunin Exams. The year that Gaara, current Kazekage of Suna, snapped and the One Tails escaped.

Sasuke was wrapped up in the chaos—tagging along at Naruto’s side as the boy fought and persuaded Gaara to back down in an incredible feat of will.

He didn’t know that there had been a second attack that day. Orochimaru, exiled Shinobi of Konoha, snuck in and made off with multiple forbidden scrolls. On his way out, he encountered the Sandaime, and they fought till the death. Sarutobi Hiruzen, weakened from old age and chakra depletion, went down fighting before any other Shinobi could intervene.

The death of their beloved Hokage rattled the citizens of Konoha, Sasuke included. He remembers the Sandaime from his childhood, a kind and wise presence both at home and occasionally on the schoolyard.

The funeral service is vivid in his mind. White flowers and whispered thanks, and a thousand tearstained faces from the youngest child to the oldest grandma.

Tsunade took it harder than anyone else. How could she not, when it was her own teammate and her own teacher? The grief was enough to bring back even Jiraiya, who was notoriously absent from the village beforehand.

Sasuke watched them mourn from afar and found himself understanding. He too, had experienced betrayal at the hands of a loved one, not that the thirteen-year-old version of himself could ever properly articulate that to Tsunade.

“Who did it?” Sasuke finds himself asking. 

“We’re suspecting Akatsuki right now. They seem to fit the bill in terms of raw power required to kill a man like Orochimaru.”

The Hokage looks across the desk at Hinata and Sasuke’s still-stunned faces.

“But that doesn’t concern you two. That’s a problem for this administration to deal with.”

“So why are you telling us this?” Hinata asks, strangely bold in front of the Yondaime.

“Because five years ago, when Orochimaru first attacked the village, he wasn’t just after some forbidden scrolls,” the Hokage responds, his face growing stony with the recollection of that awful day. “We didn’t share this information with the general public, but Jiraiya, Tsunade, and I all knew what Orochimaru was after.”

“And what was that?” says Sasuke, who can’t help but lean in with a morbid sense of curiosity.

“Immortality. And from what our specialists have deciphered from his old research, he needs a host to do that.”

Sasuke’s jaw drops. Beside him, he can hear Hinata gasp. The idea is completely taboo. From the first day they are taught to use chakra at the Academy, students learn the natural rules of life. To go against death is to spit in the face of the universe, to harness one's own natural energy for evil and harm.

Sasuke knows of only one person who has attempted this before. Obito mentioned the name Uchiha Madara only a few times before, like it was a whisper in the dark. A boogeyman come true, especially for Obito, who was tortured at the man’s hands for months.

Obito had his theories that the man was trying for immortality. It was a partial success, for even though his soul lived on, his body was very weak and frail.

In the end, Obito didn’t hesitate to murder the pitiful creature. In Sasuke’s own opinion, death was too merciful for a man like that.

But the fact that Orochimaru was following in Madara’s footsteps? That scares Sasuke, maybe even more than a set of familiar red eyes ever can.

“He was looking for a very specific sort of vessel,” the Hokage continues, ignorant of Hinata and Sasuke’s horrified reactions.

“Someone young, with impressive chakra reserves. Someone with a powerful bloodline limit to help advance his own techniques.”

“Someone with a Byakugan or Sharingan,” Hinata breathes, her whole body still with fear.

“Exactly,” says the Hokage. “And judging from the timing of the attack, we can assume he was going after one of you.”

Sasuke feels a spike of cold fear in his heart at the thought of someone wearing his skin. Controlling and warping every cell of his being until he becomes completely unrecognizable.

But it’s never going to happen. Someone killed Orochimaru. 

So all Sasuke is left with is a growing sense of anger. He may be a Shinobi, but he despises secrets more than anything in the entire world. The fact that the village he trusted, the people he trusted, would keep this from him?

It’s not right. And the paranoid, selfish part of Sasuke wonders what else Konoha might be keeping from him.

But he’s not the only one who feels this way.

“Why?” Hinata asks first, her voice broken up by angry tears. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“We’ve had situations like this before,” the Hokage replies, his tone calm and unapologetic. “Personal vendettas are common in the Shinobi world. And when we tell a target information about their situation, they tend to make stupid decisions. Can you two guarantee me you wouldn’t have gone after Orochimaru yourselves if I had told you?”

“No,” Sasuke says. He can’t lie about something like this. He would have hunted down Orochimaru in a heartbeat. Even now, he still would, if the man was still alive and breathing.

“Exactly. So, we kept you in the dark. We held you back while the rest of your teammates advanced to Jounin, because despite your qualifications, we couldn’t risk you out on the field. Not when a monster like that was after you.”

And Sasuke wants to be mad. He does. He hates the justification of it being for his own good, not when he’s a grown-ass adult who can make his own decisions. He hates the months he spent agonizing over his Chunin status, the sleepless nights he spent wondering why he wasn’t good enough. A blow to his ego which altered him to the very core.

But another part him can imagine it.

Himself as a new Jounin, fresh on the field, ripe for the picking.

Orochimaru would wear his skin like the snakes he summoned, and he would return to Konoha with a personal vendetta.

Sasuke can imagine Sakura and Naruto’s grief-stricken faces at the sight of his possessed body. Tsunade, endlessly searching day and night for a way to get Sasuke back, until she gives in, killing the traitor with her own hands. Obito, begging to switch places with Sasuke because he was an Uchiha too, martyring himself needlessly. 

“I understand,” he says.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Hinata nodding along.

The Hokage breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, his whole posture relaxing with the reaction. 

“Thank you.”

A moment's pause while he chooses his next words.

“I suppose both of you are overdue for a promotion.”

Oh.

“I, Namikaze Minato, Yondaime Hokage of Konohagakure, hereby authorize the promotion of Shinobi Hyuuga Hinata and Uchiha Sasuke to Jounin-status, effective immediately.”

\----

There’s hours of paperwork and locker assignments and uniform measurements and a thousand other bureaucratic customs, but Sasuke can’t bring himself to care.

Not when he’s finally achieving one of his biggest dreams.

He can tell Hinata feels similarly, because they actually strike up a conversation, ignorant of the goofy smiles plastered to their faces.

Sasuke, in an uncharacteristically friendly move, invites Hinata back to his apartment for a celebratory drink. 

Hinata, in an uncharacteristically outgoing move, agrees.

This is new territory for both of them. Compounded by the fact that Sasuke is still giddy-nervous over his promotion, it’s understandable why he doesn’t notice one or two or three too many chakra signatures waiting back at his house.

It explains why he doesn’t realize there’s something fishy going on until he flicks on the light switch in the front hall, and too many faces appear in front of him, screaming “SURPRISE!”

If it was anyone other than Sakura and Ino standing at the front of the crowd, Sasuke might have tried to defend himself. Don’t these idiots know that throwing surprise parties for Shinobi is a terrible idea? Sasuke still remembers the time three years ago when Obito snuck up on Kakashi in a terrible game of “guess who.” Obito was in the hospital for a week afterwards, and Kakashi felt so guilty that he didn’t leave Obito’s bedside for one second.

He turns to see Hinata deactivating her Byakugan, the annoyance on her face melting back into that passive smile.

Sakura has a big, goofy grin on her face, completely ignorant of the danger she was just in. Or, because it’s Sakura, probably completely uncaring. Sasuke has no doubts that she could take him and Hinata easily.

“A little birdie told me that you two were getting a promotion!”

And there it is. Resisting the urge to slam his head into the nearest wall, Sasuke curses how fucking tiny this town feels. A culture of gossip and rumors and whispers in the dark, not borne out of a small population, but because of the Shinobi that live here.

Ino would have told Sakura about the official summons, probably as soon as she left his apartment, because those two tell each other everything.

And Sakura, being her usual nosy self, would have started digging around.

He can imagine her now, with a sickly-sweet tone of voice and an expensive bottle of wine in hand, begging a still-hungover Tsunade for answers.

Tsunade, nearly caving in, but refusing last minute. Sakura may have been her favorite student, but she’d known her for too long to fall for those puppy-dog eyes anymore.

So, Sakura, undeterred and brilliant, would go straight to the source. 

As a sometimes-aid and occasional student to the Hokage, the receptionists and office workers of Hokage tower would know her well.

They’d think she was young and sweet and hardworking, and with some fake tears and a sniffling “I’m scared for my best friend,” they’d be spilling the beans in no time.

Sakura would walk out of there armed with details and information like a personal arsenal of kunai. She’d call up Ino, and Ino would mobilize her people.

So here Sasuke is, exhausted yet excited, with just about his entire social circle and then some crammed into his apartment.

Sasuke can think of a time where he wouldn’t be okay with this situation. The crowd, the noise, the spontaneity of it all—it would be too much for Sasuke. A dark whisper in his head, saying they’re a poor replacement for his family, that they only care about his bloodline. He would’ve screamed his head off for everyone to get out, his eyes flashing red and his voice dripping with rage.

But he’s better than that. Against his best efforts otherwise, the people in this apartment care about him. They like him as a person—for his dry sense of humor and extensive knowledge of history. Because he uses his Sharingan to offer pointers on his teammates’ forms and chakra pathways, instead of hoarding the ability to himself. Because he always stops to pet stray cats in the street and can’t handle his booze.

Sasuke stares at Sakura and Ino’s expectant faces. Shikamaru and Lee in intense conversation behind them, Neji and Tenten and Kiba laughing about something he can’t overhear. Kakashi and Shino engaged in a staring contest. A flash of ash-blonde hair and a strong chakra presence that must be Tsunade. His old schoolteacher Iruka and Choji, catching up after all these years. Anko and Asuma and Genma, who all like to tease him because he’s Obito’s “kid.”

Somehow, despite his cold exterior and aloof attitude, these people still care about him. They look past the mean comebacks and angry outbursts, and they see someone worth loving. 

It’s a shame it’s taken Sasuke so long to realize it.

He turns around to apologize to Hinata for the change of plans, but she’s already being dragged off by Kiba to settle the argument between him and Neji.

Sakura and Ino are still anxiously waiting for him.

“Fine,” Sasuke says, pretending to be annoyed for old times’ sake. “Let’s party or whatever.”

He regrets his response a second later when the two girls’ high-pitched screams of excitement nearly shatter his eardrums.

\----

Sasuke’s standing on the small balcony alone, happy to escape the confines of Obito’s stuffy apartment.

He’d done enough socializing for the night, making his rounds around the party with Sakura, until she peeled off to hang out with her boyfriend.

Undeterred, Sasuke pressed forward, making sure to thank each and every person for coming while engaging in a bit of small talk.

When he finally got to Kakashi, the man didn’t let him get a word into his little speech before he was shaking Sasuke’s hand, something like pride in his exposed eye. Sasuke, maybe from the overwhelming week he’s had, started to tear up. 

He remembers Uchiha Fugaku’s stern words and ramrod posture at every family dinner. How seldomly he was pleased with Sasuke’s work, and on the rare chance he did, it was always a simple “good job” or “keep it up.”

When Kakashi pulled him into a tight hug, all memories of Fugaku’s approval left his mind. Kakashi’s love is so much warmer and all-encompassing than anything his dearly deceased father ever did.

Once Sasuke finally made his way through the crowd, he headed for the kitchen, so he could hang out in the cool night air of the balcony.

But when he got to the cozy kitchenette, he found Tsunade waiting there in solemn silence.

He’s not the only one who had an eventful day, but while his was mostly good, Tsunade was forced to perform an autopsy on her own teammate, evil though he was.

Sasuke understood the conflict in her eyes. If Itachi’s decapitated were to be sent to Konoha tomorrow, Sasuke would mourn too.

“I’m sorry,” he said, in lieu of anything too prying or overwhelming.

Tsunade looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, looking her age for once in her life.

“You don’t have to be,” she replied, tone steady despite it all. “Orochimaru was a vile man. He killed my sensei and tried to destroy the village. He would have killed you too, if he had the chance.”

“It doesn’t mean you can’t feel sad. You knew him before all of that. Just because he became a bad person doesn’t mean he wasn’t good at one point. All those happy memories still exist.” Sasuke said, reaching out for Tsunade’s hands. He didn’t have to school his face into something more sincere or kind when he said those words. He was already speaking from the heart.

“When did you get so wise, brat?” Tsunade asked, some old humor returning to her voice.

“I’ve always been this way, you old hag,” Sasuke couldn’t help but replying.

And with that, he got up to go outside.

So now here he is, the night close to wrapping up.

There are no stars out tonight. There usually aren’t, not in a big city like Konoha, where light pollution drowns out everything but the most brilliant of stars.

He read once that every star out there is another sun like their own, millions of other solar systems, each with their own planets and moons and asteroid belts.

He wonders how many of those planets have life on them too. If these other lifeforms are looking out at the stars, at the Earth’s sun. Gazing back at Sasuke.

If Sasuke was the loneliest person on Earth, he still wouldn’t be alone. How could he, in a universe as infinitely big as this one?

A cough from behind him stumbles Sasuke out of his contemplative silence.

Turning around sharply, he relaxes as soon as he sees Ino’s smiling face.

“Did you have a good day?” she asks wryly, like she already knows the answer.

“Well, I made it to Jounin,” Sasuke replies, like the way that sentence feels on his tongue. “How do you think I feel?”

“Pretty fucking great, no thanks to my training.”

“Yeah, actually,” Sasuke affirms in a rare moment of sincerity. “Thank you.”

Ino smiles, bemused and cocky that she was right. Sasuke can’t resent her for it. Not when it was her that dragged him out of a months, possibly years-long slump.

“In any case,” she continues after a beat of silence, “Getting promoted should boost your confidence when you ask out Naruto tomorrow. There’s nothing sexier than a man with a good job.”

And with that, Ino heads back inside, leaving a stunned Sasuke in her wake.

He had completely forgotten about Naruto.

\----

Sakura and Sasuke are standing at the gates the next day, the hot afternoon sun beating down on their backs.

It’s a village-wide tradition for Shinobi to wait for friends and family at the entrance when they come back from extended missions. Sasuke, as unconventional as his family may be, is no exception.

He’s been waiting around too long to be nervous anymore, a sort of calmness muting the world around him as he scans the horizon for Naruto’s blonde head of hair.

For a second, he thinks he sees the boy, but the shape and form and outline are all wrong. Blinking a couple times, he realizes the Hokage is waiting, too.

The man has hidden himself well along the top of the wall, invisible to all other spectators.

Invisible to all but Sasuke, who specializes in having good eyesight. He’d be a pretty crappy Uchiha if he couldn’t spot something as simple as a hidden Shinobi.

Across the street from them are a couple people from the Uzumaki clan. Sasuke’s met them all at one point, but the only person civilian he can remember clearly is Atsuo, who’s overly friendly and knows a lot about Fuinjutsu for someone who doesn’t use chakra.

Atsuo’s smiling face is nowhere in sight. Instead, it’s two of the oldest members, identifiable by their silvery-red hair and ramrod straight posture.

Sasuke can feel their disapproving glares on him from over here, the sensation reminiscent of his own early childhood, where his grandma and great uncles would have tea in the parlor room overlooking the garden.

Their dark eyes were always assessing, always judging, always comparing Sasuke to his older brother.

He was too young to truly understand that weight, but even as a child, Sasuke knew there was something off about the whole situation.

He wonders how Naruto does it. Day in and out, contending with these elders, who so much as won’t let him say one word out of line when they are watching.

Naruto’s loosened up a lot since childhood, somehow both more mature and more rebellious with time. His meteoric rise as a peacemaker and negotiator probably gives him wiggle room with the Uzumaki elders.

Still, they have a lot of influence over him. Sasuke’s sure that right now, they’re arranging potential suitors for Naruto and Karin both, the way old clans often do.

Sasuke realizes, gaze switching back between a besotted Hokage and the regal Uzumakis, that he’s going to have to ask Naruto out in front of what is essentially his entire extended family.

“And Karin,” Sakura adds. 

Sasuke must have said that last part out loud. Hopefully no one but Sakura heard him. According to Ino, his crush is visible from a mile away.

That doesn’t mean Sasuke wants to admit to it.

“And Karin,” Sasuke agrees morosely. That girl has a protective streak a mile wide when it comes to Naruto.

Before they can continue their conversation any further, there’s a commotion from the guards at the gate.

Sasuke swivels his head back around to the road.

Red and gold, and a chakra presence so strong even Sasuke can sense it from where he’s standing.

He leans back against the lamppost, trying to look casual and collected as Kushina, Karin, and Naruto get nearer and nearer.

The Hokage doesn’t seem to share that same sentiment, though, because Sasuke sees him flash through a couple hand signs, and he’s gone in a flash of yellow light and smoke.

He appears a second later at the gates, a mere foot in front of Kushina.

If she’s surprised by his appearance, she doesn’t look like it.

They smile goofily at each other, and the Hokage sweeps Kushina up into his arms, spinning her around in a fit of giggles.

They’re so painfully obvious with their affection. It’s ridiculous that they still haven't confirmed their relationship.

Karin backs up a couple feet, sighing and crossing her arms like this scene is a usual occurrence. Sasuke has waited for Naruto’s return enough times to know that it is.

Naruto doesn’t even react to the display. He’s running, bounding towards Sakura and Sasuke now, a giant grin on his face.

When he’s within shouting distance, he yells.

“I’VE MISSED YOU GUYS SO MUCH!”

He’s got a giant pack slung over his back, not that it’s slowing him down.

He’s upon them faster than Sasuke can make a witty comeback, his arms closing around Sakura and Sasuke in the world’s most uncomfortable group hug.

Naruto smells sweaty and is too warm under the hot sun, and his bag is poking uncomfortably into Sasuke’s armpit. He suspects a strand of Sakura's hair is in his mouth right now, and the only reason he’s okay with that is because Sakura has good personal hygiene.

Normally, Sasuke would break free as soon as Naruto grabbed ahold of him, make a show of fake gagging and disgusted motions.

Today, he lets Naruto squeeze the life out of him, happy to bask in the other boy’s presence.

When they finally break apart, even Sasuke is smiling.

He tucks his head behind Sakura’s shoulder, hoping no one else is looking at their little reunion.

“So,” Naruto says once they’ve all caught their breaths. “Dinner?”

“It’s four o'clock!” Sakura groans, slapping a gloved hand to her forehead.

“Yeah,” replies Naruto, his smile impossibly big. “And I’m hungry, so let's eat.”

“Don’t you have to go make a report or something? Or speak to your family?” says Sasuke. He deliberately ignores the glare Sakura gives him. He’s not stalling. Nope.

“All those things can wait,” Naruto replies. “We’re not going to war and we’re not under attack, because I did my job. A report to the Hokage can be postponed.”

“And your family?” Sasuke presses. He can feel the heat of the Uzumaki elders’ glares drilling into his back.

“They’ll see me later tonight! Right now, I just want some ramen and quality time with my best friends, who I haven’t seen in a week!”

“And maybe a hot shower,” Naruto adds. Sasuke flushes red at the thought of Naruto in the shower. If anyone asks, he can attribute to the warm afternoon sun.

“Sounds good to me,” says Sakura, a smirk pulling at her pretty face. “Let's head on over to Ichiraku.”

She’s completely ignorant to the death stare Sasuke’s giving her.

\----

“—had thirty-two cats! His entire house was covered in cat hair. And Mom’s allergic to cats, so she was sneezing. It got so bad she had to leave, so it was just me and Karin—”

“Um, Naruto,” Sakura interjects sweetly. “I don’t want to interrupt your exciting story, but I just realized I have to fill in for a shift at the hospital.”

Sasuke stiffens at that. What the hell is Sakura trying to pull here?

“Oh,” says Naruto, his face dejected. He stares at his own feet for a second before brightening up again. “Well, we can catch up later! Have fun at work.”

Sakura is dashing off before Sasuke can get out a single word of protest.

Which leaves him and Naruto.

Alone.

His heart is beating hard, fast and loud enough that he can feel it in his ears

“—ke? Sasuke?”

Sasuke snaps to attention, Naruto leaning uncomfortably close, his big blue eyes practically dripping with concern.

“Sorry,” Sasuke says. “It’s...bright outside.”

_Nice lie, idiot_ , he thinks to himself. It’s practically sunset now, the bright sunlight gone in favor of vivid hues of orange and pink painted across the sky.

Sunset, which is when Naruto looks best. When his skin turns golden and his hair practically glows in the afternoon light. When his eyes contrast with the technicolor sky above, and the shadows gather around his face, highlighting his cheekbones and lips.

But Sasuke shouldn’t be thinking about those things right now.

“Okay…” says Naruto, clearly not buying into Sasuke’s excuse either.

Sasuke doesn’t know how to broach the subject. He practiced it a thousand times with Ino, a thousand more times in the mirror with himself.

But here, standing in front of Naruto, he finds himself coming up empty.

Naruto is waiting so, so patiently, more than Sasuke deserves.

He takes a deep breath in and out. He counts down from ten slowly.

And he speaks.

“Naruto,” he starts, his voice a bit shaky. “I’m going to ask you something. And I want you to hear what I have to say. If you don’t like it, we can forget that the whole thing happened and there won’t be any hard feelings between us. But if I don’t say something now, I’m going to explode.”

“What is it? Do I have something in my teeth?” Naruto asks, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Any other time, and Sasuke would laugh. He’d make some joke about Naruto’s dental health and Naruto would have another comeback, and so on.

Today, Sasuke doesn’t even acknowledge the joke.

Naruto catches onto the lack of reaction quickly, his eyebrows arching in concern, his easy smile flattening into a straight line.

“You can tell me anything,” Naruto says, laying a hand on Sasuke’s arm.

Sasuke trembles at the touch. That’s the problem, isn’t it? He can tell Naruto this, and Naruto won’t treat him any differently if Sasuke asks. He’ll be perfectly understanding, and kind, and gentle when he lets him down.

And Sasuke will spend the rest of his foreseeable future, terribly in love with his best friend, who doesn’t love him back—not that way, at least.

“Breathe, Sasuke,” Naruto reminds him.

Except. 

Maybe that outcome isn’t so certain.

Naruto has turned down people in the past. He rejected Hyuuga Fucking Hinata, who’s probably the most beautiful girl in town. Ino seemed confident that Sasuke could ask Naruto out, if he worked on his own self-image first. Even Sakura has been rooting for him since day one.

He looks out over the setting sun.

“I like you,” Sasuke announces abruptly. “I like you as more than a friend. There. I said it.”

Naruto is dead silent, his expression inscrutable and heart-stopping in the soft afternoon light.

“And I really, really want to take you out to dinner.” 

He pauses for a second.

“On a date,” Sasuke clarifies. 

“Okay.”

“And you can say no if you want, but I just wanted to confess. I’ve felt this way for like five years now, and I wasn’t being honest with myself, and I wasn’t being honest with you. I’m an adult now. I should be able to handle my feelings like one. Plus, Ino started coaching me and—”

Sasuke blinks, his breath catching up with him.

“Wait. WHAT?”

“Okay,” Naruto says again. His blue eyes are twinkling with amusement, and the smile on his face is small, but so, so bright.

“You...you want to go on a date with me?”

“Of course! Why would I say no?” Naruto replies, like it’s the clearest thing in the world.

Sasuke doesn’t know what to say to that, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“C’mon Loverboy,” Naruto says, tugging at Sasuke’s arm and pulling him close. “Take me to Ichiraku already.”

Sasuke is happy to do as he’s told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you in a week, or maybe sooner :)


	3. All Is Well in Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a boring chapter. Laying the roots for everything to come.

“A Jounin promotion, huh? That’s amazing, Sasuke!”

“Keep your mouth shut when you chew, Goldilocks, it’s gross to look at,” replies Sasuke, staring at Naruto’s half-finished bowl of tonkotsu ramen. He avoids the boy’s eyes, knowing that he’ll get flustered if he looks. This whole thing is too surreal for Sasuke to quite believe it.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Naruto’s jaw snap closed accordingly. 

“And yeah,” he continues, a hint of a smile on his typically stoic face. “It’s pretty cool.”

He pushes around the noodles in his bowl, unsure what else to say. The lull in the conversation is growing too long by the second.

For all that Ino prepped him on his own self-image, she didn’t talk much about the actual date.

Well, she did make him do that whole speed dating thing, but that was different. That was with friends and acquaintances, in a completely nonromantic context. 

What is he supposed to say to Naruto, who’s already his best friend? What can they possibly talk about that they haven’t already told each other at some point in time?

Sasuke feels something a bit like despair settle in. They’ve only been on this date for twenty minutes now, and it seems to be going sour before his very eyes.

He opens his mouth, prepared to apologize for the terrible idea, but some small part of him, that undying fire inside that will never give up, no matter the circumstances, protests. And Sasuke opens his mouth and says this instead:

“How was your trip?”

_Stupid_ , Sasuke thinks as soon as the words have left his mouth. Naruto’s been talking about the trip since he met them at the gates. 

“Good…” Naruto replies, drawing out the vowels in confusion.

“I mean, um,” Sasuke scrambles to reply, “not the trip! Because you already talked about that, obviously! How’s the outside world?”

His voice might have cracked once or twice in the middle of the sentence, and he can see how Naruto’s eyes are bulging out in a poor attempt to stop his oncoming fit of giggles.

“You want me to tell you tell you about the news?” Naruto wheezes out, blue eyes growing more watery by the second.

Sasuke pokes his chest out with a dramatic huff, oddly reminiscent of a peacock with ruffled feathers.

“Yeah, actually,” he replies, emboldened by Naruto’s reaction. “It gets isolated here in Konoha. We get so caught up in our own little world, the deceit and mystery and small-town politics of it all, that we seem to forget about everything else. We forget about the farmers who supply our food, and the merchants who bring supplies to Konoha, and the blacksmiths who make our kunai. And when we ignore the little guys, the whole world hurts because of it.”

Sasuke sits back, surprised at his own words. He actually made some pretty good points there. 

Naruto seems to think so too, from the way his eyebrows are raised. All traces of humor have been wiped from his face.

“You’re right,” he says, soft and honest, staring directly at Sasuke. “I’d be happy to tell you about the rest of the world.”

Sasuke sits back in his seat, because he’s had this exact conversation with Naruto. All it takes is the word “politics” to get the boy rambling. And Sasuke, as much as he might try to listen, inevitably gets lost. For all that he believes in the idea of staying current with these sorts of things, he usually gets bored if it doesn’t have some sort of practical application for him. 

No mentions of Shinobi for more than five minutes, and Sasuke’s eyes glaze over.

And he’s just invited Naruto to talk about civilian issues. Extensively.

“But,” Naruto continues, startling Sasuke out of his slump, “I know you get tired of hearing these things.”

Sasuke turns sharply in Naruto’s direction at that. He practically read Sasuke’s mind.

“So, I’ll make it interesting. I’ll do it in the sexy voice!”

_Oh god no._

\----

The “sexy voice,” as Naruto likes to call it, is not a new concept.

In fact, it came about many, many years ago, in those first few months Naruto was living in Konoha and training with Team Seven.

Naruto had... peculiar problems with chakra control.

The kind where he seemed to overdo everything he attempted.

It made maintaining a basic henge nearly impossible for the boy, which Sakura and Sasuke loved to tease him about.

They stopped laughing when Naruto summoned twenty identical clones to beat their faces in during practice the next day.

And from then on, Naruto started finding ways to get around his unique problem.

One of the most successful (and embarrassing) Jutsu was one Naruto lovingly referred to as “Sexy no Jutsu.”

It involved a henge of a scantily clad woman, complete with Naruto’s scarred cheeks and golden hair and tan skin.

And much to Sasuke’s horror, it looked eerily similar to one Uzumaki Kushina. Or, going further back, the bronze statue of Uzumaki Mito sitting in Founder’s Park.

It was a tactic Naruto only employed in the most desperate of times, against friends and foes alike. 

It was effective on tweens. 

It was effective on teenagers.

It was effective on adults! Fully grown, married with kids, ANBU-trained adults!

One time, it even managed to catch Sakura by surprise, giving Naruto enough time to land a chakra loaded hit on her he never would have scored otherwise.

Oddly enough, it never seemed to work too well on Sasuke. Probably because he was already distracted by Naruto’s normal presence.

And so, the insufferable tactic went on for a few months, until Naruto showed up to practice one day, quiet and reserved in a way too similar to the day he first came to Konoha. Eerily reminiscent of Hinata and Neji in the presence of their clan. 

Sasuke knew right then and there that the Uzumaki elders had seen Naruto’s little trick and punished him accordingly.

It pissed Sasuke off to no end. First, for Naruto’s family to completely disregard his genius to invent a simple and effective jutsu at such a young age. Then, to reduce him back to this waif of a human being, after Naruto had made so much progress in the last year spent in Konoha.

But time went on, and Naruto grew bold again.

The recurring joke became a “sexy voice”, done only in absolute privacy where he was sure his family wasn’t watching. It was incredibly ridiculous, filled with an almost-unintelligible husky tone of voice and never-before-heard pronunciations of common words. 

Sakura cried tears of laughter every time Naruto performed it, as the “sexy voice” transcended vocal limits and became an alter ego to one Uzumaki Naruto. 

There was a backstory to the “sexy voice,” whose favorite food was hot soup and favorite clothing was leopard print anything. The “sexy voice” had a rotating set of boyfriends, one for every occasion and counting. The “sexy voice” was really into competitive arm wrestling, and other events with skin-on-skin contact.

And to this day, the “sexy voice” still makes an appearance from time to time, much to all of Team Seven’s delight.

But Naruto hasn’t done the “Sexy no Jutsu” since he was fourteen years old.

\----

Before Sasuke can protest, Naruto scoots his barstool six inches closer to Sasuke so they’re flush against each other.

Naruto’s body is too hot, the smell of sweat and freshly cut grass on his skin too much. From this angle, Sasuke can see individual strands of Naruto’s light hair, how thick and coarse it actually seems up close.

Sasuke is petrified, and that’s before Naruto decides to lean right in to whisper in his ear.

“It’s an unusually rainy season in Amegakure this year,” he murmurs, breaths of hot air on each consonant tickling Sasuke’s ear. “We helped them prepare for the possibility of mudslides by laying down nets on the hills. Have I told you how much I love a good net? Useful in the bedroom and on the field, in case you want to catch any strapping, young Shinobi.”

Sasuke bursts out in laughter, unable to contain himself anymore. The whole situation is too excessive, too ridiculous.

His reaction only spurs Naruto on, because he’s backing away from Sasuke’s ear and turning towards Sasuke’s still-unfinished bowl of ramen.

He lays one finger on the rim of the bowl, slowly drawing it around in circles until it produces a rubbery noise that’s completely off-putting. A bit like a fart, if you’re into that sort of thing.

“Wind Country is undergoing a lot of new infrastructure construction, thanks to the new Kazekage. The roads between the towns are going to be more well-defined, so people stop getting lost in the middle of the desert. But that handsome Gaara? I wouldn’t mind a few hours stranded in the desert with him. I hear he can do a whole lot with sand.”

Sasuke starts crying from laughter at this point, Naruto’s word’s a direct mirror of what the Hokage’s receptionists were saying on Suna’s last diplomatic mission to Fire Country.

He can’t believe he was feeling jealous of the red-headed man only a couple days ago.

Unfortunately, as funny as Naruto’s impression is, Sasuke can’t take much more. His stomach is already cramping from fits of laughter.

“Please stop, Mr. Sexy Voice,” he begs, resting his head against the hard wood of the counter so he doesn’t have to look at Naruto’s pout.

“Come on honey,” Naruto continues, running his fingers up and down Sasuke’s spine, “Can’t you last one more round?”

“I really can’t,” Sasuke replies, wriggling out of Naruto’s grasp.

“I think that’s the shortest amount of time you’ve ever been able to listen,” Naruto remarks idly, pushing his chair back to its usual distance.

Sasuke tries not to frown at the absence of Naruto’s presence, instead focusing on the words.

“If you’d said anything else, I would’ve thrown up. You would have murdered me. Sakura would have to sign off on the coroner’s report. My tombstone would say ‘Here lies Sasuke, died of asphyxiation from laughter.”

Naruto’s eyes are squinted shut and his eyebrows brows are furrowed. It’s cuter than it should be.

“What kind of tombstone puts a person’s cause of death on it?”

“Mine, because you’re not getting away with murder that easily.”

At that, Naruto throws a hand against his chest and gasps dramatically.

Sasuke rolls his eyes, just grateful for the fact that he and Naruto seem to have broken out of their conversation slump.

“I’m sorry I cut off your excellent impression,” he says. “How about I tell you what’s been happening in Konoha and we call it even?”

Naruto’s smile is so bright, Sasuke feels the urge to bust out a pair of sunglasses.

“Deal,” Naruto replies, his infectious joy somehow making something as boring as small talk exciting to Sasuke.

“Sakura’s seen an influx of kunai butt plug related accidents at the hospital lately,” Sasuke starts.

Naruto spits out a mouthful of broth, coughing for a second before he manages to catch his breath.

“You should’ve told me that in the sexy voice,” he whines, voice still hoarse from his choking episode.

Sasuke doesn’t bother to acknowledge the comment. When he’d envisioned his first date with Naruto, he hadn’t ever imagined that butt plugs would be a part of the conversation.

“I made Jounin,” he states, like a petulant child whose finger-painted, macaroni necklace hasn’t yet been acknowledged.

“You told me that already,” Naruto replies, patient as ever. “Congratulations, again.”

“Thank you,” Sasuke says, trying his best not to look too smug. This is more of what he imagined when planning their first date all those years ago.

“I have to ask, though, why get the promotion now?”

“Not that you didn’t deserve it,” Naruto quickly adds, at the sight of Sasuke’s slumping shoulders. “It just seems like odd timing. Quite frankly, it’s strange that you didn’t get promoted with everyone else a couple months ago.”

Sasuke breathes out a sigh of relief. He doesn’t know if he could handle Naruto insulting his skills as a Shinobi.

He looks back to Naruto, who has his blue eyes firmly fixed on Sasuke. He’s too perceptive for his own good, and Sasuke is too bad at keeping secrets. There’s no lie that he can tell that Naruto will believe. They tell each other everything.

But he can tell Naruto this, right? If there’s anyone he trusts in this world, it’s his best friend. And besides, Naruto probably hears loads of confidential information every day. The Yondaime must let some stuff slip at the dinner table each night.

So Sasuke puts his neck on the line.

“I’m going to tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. I don’t know if it’s widespread information.”

“Okay, Sasuke,” Naruto replies, voice calm and low against the echoing conversations of other patrons inside Ichiraku. “Just don’t saying anything too incriminating or anything that might get you in trouble.”

Sasuke feels a stab of annoyance run through him. Of course it might get him in trouble if anybody finds out. That’s why he’s making Naruto promise not to tell.

Still, he’s given too much away to stop now. Naruto is persistent, if nothing else.

“Apparently Orochimaru was getting up to some bad shit during his banishment from Konoha.”

“Bad shit? Sasuke, he murdered the Sandaime. How much worse can you get?” 

Naruto’s whispers are frantic, and when his body presses in close to Sasuke’s, Sasuke doesn’t feel the same relief from his body heat that he did before.

“He was looking for immortality. And to do that, he required a new vessel. Someone like Hyuuga Hinata. Or me.”

Naruto’s jaw drops in shock. He usually isn’t the type to telegraph negative emotions, not when his job requires neutrality to handle sensitive situations. 

But right now, Sasuke can see fear in his friend’s face and in the taught lines of his neck and shoulders.

“What does this have to do with you being promoted to Jounin?” Naruto finally asks, when he gets over the shock of Sasuke’s news.

“Having me and Hinata would have been a liability on the field, so the Hokage had to hold us back.”

“That’s not fair!” Naruto cries, the entire room growing hot with his anger.

It’s such a rare occurrence that Sasuke forgets what Naruto’s like when he’s upset—how his chakra seems to lay heavy in the air and shake the very earth with its force. Something ancient and inhuman.

It’s terrifying, even to Sasuke.

“Clearly, keeping you cooped up in Konoha won’t help matters! Orochimaru didn’t have much difficulty infiltrating us five years ago, so why would he have trouble now? Lying to you about it only put you in more danger! If you had known, you could have taken the proper precautions for the inevitability of an attack!”

Naruto is still whispering, but the intensity of his emotions is not any lesser for it. Sweat is beading on Sasuke’s forehead, and there’s an animalistic part of him that wants to turn tail and run at Naruto’s chakra signature. 

People in the restaurant are starting to notice too, judging from the soft whispers around the room.

Sasuke has to intervene before this gets any worse.

“It’s okay,” Sasuke says, throwing his hands out in a conciliatory gesture. “What’s done is done, and I’m a Jounin now, so no hard feelings. Besides, Orochimaru is dead. The threat has been eradicated. That’s the reason why I was promoted.”

Naruto cools off a bit at Sasuke’s easy words, his intensity slowly decreasing when he whispers, 

“Oh.”

Then another beat before realization sets in.

“Orochimaru is dead? How the hell did he die?”

Finally, something Sasuke is happy to talk about.

“No clue,” he replies, taking a long sip of water. “But the main theory is that Akatsuki did it. They’re the only rogue element powerful enough to take down a Sanin like Orochimaru.”

Naruto’s posture grows stiff at that comment.

“So Akatsuki is performing public executions now?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Sasuke replies, oblivious to the simmering anger of his date. “We should send them a thank you letter and a bouquet for it. Maybe they’re not so bad after all, between this and restoring Amegakure.”

Naruto’s hand clasps Sasuke bicep, pulling his attention away from the glass of water and onto the boy. 

“Akatsuki is a terrorist organization,” he replies through gritted teeth.

Sasuke frowns, annoyed at Naruto’s reaction. He thought that Naruto would have a different opinion, with his world travels and all. Revolutionary doesn’t necessarily mean terrorist.

“People keep on saying that,” he responds, voice cold as steel, “but I’m not seeing much evidence for that argument at this point in time. They’re largely neutral to civilians and most Shinobi, including those of Konoha. If they’re culling the herd a little bit, then so what? Our job is literally to murder people, too.”

With that, he pries open Naruto’s death grip, surprised to find pale marks there from when Naruto squeezed his arm tight.

Naruto looks down in surprise too, and guilt floods his face in red.

“They’ve been circling Suna like sharks, lately,” Naruto says, withdrawing in on himself and away from Sasuke.

That’s certainly news to Sasuke.

“It’s why they’re working on better infrastructure,” he continues, voice low and contemplative. 

“The word around those parts is that Akatsuki is after the tailed beasts. Gaara is an obvious place to start, seeing as he’s the most recognizable Jinchuuriki in the world right now.”

Okay, well maybe Sasuke can understand why Naruto’s a little bit worried. Gaara is a close friend and ally of Konoha, and apparently to Naruto too. But it doesn’t explain why Naruto seems upset over the whole situation. It’s not like they can do much about it.

“Hey,” he says, throwing his arm around Naruto and gracing him with a small smile in an attempt to cheer the boy up, “it’s not something we should be worrying about. Akatsuki will do what they do, and Konoha will carry on.”

“Besides,” Sasuke adds in a moment of enlightenment, “It’s not like the Akatsuki have any business with Konoha in the first place. We haven’t had a Jinchuuriki since Uzumaki Mito, and that was decades ago!”

He turns back to his still unfinished bowl of ramen, unaware of the look of despair on Naruto’s face.

\----

Once they pay the check and leave Ichiraku, Naruto and Sasuke bicker for a bit on who’s walking who home.

After a heated (but lighthearted) argument, they settle on heading to Sasuke’s place, because it’s way closer and not on a giant hill, unlike the Uzumaki mansion.

Sasuke has a suspicion that Naruto is also trying to avoid the prying and judgemental gazes of his family members, not that he’s said that directly.

Sasuke doesn’t like that Naruto sees him and their relationship as something to hide, but he won’t bring that up right now. Not after such a great first date.

They walk down the empty streets of Konoha in a comfortable silence. 

Sasuke is too swept up in his own happiness and satisfaction to notice how unnerved Naruto is from their earlier conversation about Akatsuki. 

He likes how Naruto’s smaller hand fits into his own, and how their strides seem to match up just right when their feet hit the pavement.

He imagines that they look good together from afar, with their contrasting hair and clothing and posture. Uniform in their emotions, different in their looks. Stable and enduring in a way so few things in Sasuke’s life are.

At this very moment, he feels unstoppable.

If Naruto asked him to go to the moon and back, Sasuke would do it without a second thought, he’s so unbelievably happy right now. 

Neither physics nor chakra limits nor pure logic could stop him. Only Naruto’s word, and the promise that he’ll wait for Sasuke to return.

They walk up to Sasuke’s apartment, both a bit too close together on the small stoop, not that Sasuke minds a bit of extra physical contact.

They turn to face each other, both at a loss for words.

Looking down at Naruto’s face, Sasuke is reluctant to say goodnight and end this first date.

Naruto looks back before glancing away, his eyes close to black in the moonlight.

If sunset is his hour, then nighttime has no words for Naruto.

He’s ghostly in the shadows, only his hair picking up much light.

Between the harsh moonlight and soft streetlamps, Naruto’s hair glows silvery, and his face’s delicate features wash out. His scars are harsher and deeper, the small blemishes on his skin looking more visible against his tan skin.

He’s nowhere near as beautiful at night, but Sasuke likes him even more. 

This Naruto at his most human. Awkward and goofy and still just an average teenager. Brought down to Sasuke’s level, with no pedigree or fancy job or impressive words to bolster his status.

This is the Naruto that Sasuke loves, because of all these imperfections.

He’s not the golden boy of Sasuke’s dreams. 

He’s here, and he’s real.

“Goodnight,” Naruto finally says, hesitant to break the spell of silence between them. A small smile, a bit crooked on one end and devastatingly charming for it. And then, “I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

Sasuke doesn’t want to think about Ino right now, but Naruto’s voice is eerily reminiscent of that tone she uses when she’s hooking boys in. Light and airy and overwhelmed with it all.

On Naruto, it sounds entirely genuine.

“Goodnight,” Sasuke replies, sure his voice sounds the same way.

Against all reason telling him otherwise, Sasuke leans in and gives Naruto a kiss on the cheek.

He rushes inside before he can see the reaction on Naruto’s face.

If Naruto’s mad about it, he can kick Sasuke’s ass during practice tomorrow. 

\----

“Sasuke loves his sweatpants,” singsongs Naruto.

Sasuke feels the blood run to his face in embarrassment, remembering Ino’s harsh words about his wardrobe choice a few days ago. Still, he’s training right now! What the hell is he supposed to wear? Jeans?

He yells and thrashes about for a few seconds, but it doesn’t seem to make much of a difference.

Whatever seal Naruto slapped on Sasuke’s back when he wasn’t looking is doing a pretty good job of keeping him immobile.

It doesn’t help that Naruto has added his own body weight to the mix, slamming Sasuke’s torso to the ground and straddling his waist with sweatpant-clad legs.

His grip around Sasuke’s wrists is firm, and his face is too close, a toothy grin plastered across it.

The position is uncomfortable, not because Sasuke doesn’t like having Naruto’s warm body pressed against him. Actually, it’s quite the opposite. Sasuke likes Naruto straddling him too much, and if he doesn’t get off soon, Sasuke’s going to have...bigger things to worry about.

Before he can beg Naruto to move, a sandaled foot comes flying at them both from over Naruto’s shoulder.

Sasuke sits back and lets it happen, perfectly content see his maybe boyfriend get served a cold dish of karma.

As the foot connects with Naruto’s head, he goes flying to Sasuke’s left, where Sasuke hears a scream followed by a loud thump.

At least Sakura aimed for foliage this time instead of concrete.

Speaking of, Sakura’s face comes into view above Sasuke, her short pink hair falling out of her ponytail in loose strands around her face.

“If you two are done flirting, we’d like to get back to practice.”

“We” is a bit of a stretch. Sasuke’s sure that by now, Kakashi has found a comfortable spot under the shade to read one of Jiraiya’s nasty books. Sai, though Sasuke can’t see him from this angle, is probably using Sasuke’s and Naruto’s previous position as a life-drawing reference for a work of art Sasuke would pay money not to see.

“I’m not flirting!” Sasuke yells back, trying to keep the shattered remains of his badass reputation intact. “I’m stuck from whatever freaky Fuinjutsu Naruto put down.”

Sakura gives a soft hum, considering the situation carefully before she makes up her mind about how she wants the rest of practice to go.

Currently, they’re doing some sort of battle royale thing, which really just means Kakashi can sit around and watch them beat the shit out of each other.

But if Sakura intervenes, they can end practice early and go home. Sakura wins these things every time. 

“Naruto,” she calls over her shoulder, her green eyes glaring at some distant object Sasuke can’t see. “Come undo this seal before I come over there and make you.”

Sasuke hears a string of expletives from the boy, and a lot of groaning before Naruto’s angelic face comes back into view.

The seal, which was laid on Sasuke’s back when he wasn’t looking, is just as ridiculously impressive as everything else Naruto comes up with in his spare time.

It takes him about ten minutes to dismantle the paralyzing ward, and he explains each step as he does it.

Sakura is focused intently on Naruto’s words, and Sasuke knows that she’s carefully categorizing everything Naruto says into her genius brain, storing the information to use and analyze at a later date.

Sai has also come into view, his pen and notebook out while he furiously scratches out notes. 

Even Kakashi is listening, as much as he pretends otherwise.

When Naruto is finally finished undoing his work and Sasuke is wiping the dirt off of his clothes, Sakura pipes up.

“If the seal paralyzes someone, why did you physically pin Sasuke down?”

Naruto turns in her direction, his blue eyes guileless and sweet. 

“Oh, that? I just wanted an excuse to straddle Sasuke.”

And with that he turns away, leaving Sakura cackling and Sasuke choking on his own spit.

\----

The days pass by in a rose-tinted blur, until Friday is rolling around and Sasuke’s running eagerly out the door at five in the morning to wait by the gates. 

He doesn’t have to wait for a mystery guest (AKA Tsunade) at breakfast this morning, because Obito will be back early enough for them to have breakfast together.

Obito’s expected in at five thirty, so of course he rolls in five minutes late, leisurely and comfortably in typical Obito fashion.

Sasuke won’t admit it to the man, because he’d never stop mocking him for it, but he’s missed Obito more than anything.

He’s got so much to tell him.

He doesn’t care about making a scene when he sees Obito off in the distance, rushing out the front gates and opening his arms up to Obito, who picks him up in a hug that feels like home.

“Good morning,” Obito announces cheerily once they part. “It’s pretty early for you. Are you sure you’re down for breakfast?”

“Obito,” Sasuke deadpans, “I’m a teenager and I live an incredibly active lifestyle. Of course I’m ready to eat breakfast.”

He looks up at Obito through his dark bangs, seeing one pitch black eye so similar to his own.

“I’m always ready to eat breakfast.”

Obito stares back for a moment, equally serious. 

His guffawing is so loud it scares the ravens out of the nearby trees and makes the early-morning gate guards jump with surprise.

“Then let’s get going,” says Obito, wiping a single tear away from his eye.

\----

Obito drags him to the Hokage Tower first, insistent that he deliver a report to the Hokage before they return to the apartment, no matter how much Sasuke grumbles along the way.

He crams himself into the waiting room chair while Obito enters the Hokage’s office, suddenly fully cognizant of the fact that he’s wearing his pajamas and an oversized, stained hoodie.

If he hadn’t had that whole speech from Ino about fashion a few days ago, if he hadn’t been recently promoted to Jounin, he probably wouldn’t care about his appearance.

For now, he squirms in the hard-backed chair, glancing up at the dusty wall clock every few seconds to see if Obito is ready to leave yet.

After what feels like a lifetime, Obito steps out of the room, the Hokage close behind.

Sasuke jumps up from his seat, awkwardly bowing to the Hokage, who he is now realizing may or may not know that he and Naruto are dating.

This is not the “meet the parents” situation he wanted to have.

The Hokage, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice Sasuke’s stilted behavior, still deeply engrossed in a conversation with Obito.

“...And you’ll tell them, right? Good. See you in three days, Obito.”

Obito, for once, is not smiling or laughing with his former teacher. He’s pulled himself up tall, the scars on his face smoothing out with his neutral expression, looking more intimidating in the morning light.

Sasuke’s breath catches at the sight. It’s easy to forget that his goofy cousin and guardian is an incredible Shinobi who’s survived countless horrors over the years. It’s clearly evident in these situations, the times when Obito comes back from a mission, and the Hokage shows up at six in the morning for a one-on-one appointment. 

He’s not being sent away on such long-term missions so frequently for vacation time, that’s for sure.

After bowing his head respectfully at the Yondaime, Obito makes a beeline for the door, Sasuke hurrying along to catch up with his relative.

Obito keeps up the Shinobi persona until they’re a few blocks away from the Hokage Tower, his shoulders finally slumping with exhaustion and relief.

Sasuke knows that sometimes Obito has trouble distinguishing between his professional and personal life. Somewhere in his childhood, those wires were crossed in his brain one too many times, and now Obito wears two skins, just like the scars that split his body in half, from flesh and blood to artificial carbon.

Sakura or Ino would call it PTSD. One of the most common afflictions that Shinobi can suffer, one of the hardest to cure, and one of the most varied in how it expresses itself.

Sasuke hates that there’s nothing he can do for Obito, when the man wakes up from nightmares screaming, when he scrubs his hands so hard they go raw, when he shuts himself in on the bad days, refusing to speak or see anyone.

It’s rare, and as time goes on, rarer still, for which Sasuke is grateful.

Thankfully, Obito seems to be doing okay today.

Once Obito has cooled down enough, Sasuke decides to tell him about his week. He figures some good news will make Obito feel even better.

“I have some exciting information,” he announces, too loud in the dead silent alleyway they’re cutting through.

“Is it that you made Jounin?” Obito replies archly, a slow grin spreading on his face when Sasuke stops in surprise. 

“I heard from Minato earlier. He seemed really pleased with the news, too.”

“Oh,” Sasuke breathes. What a nice bit of information, to know that the Hokage himself is proud of him.

“Well, I have another bit of good news!”

“Oh?” Obito retorts, echoing Sasuke’s earlier response.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Sasuke loves the way the sentence rolls of his tongue.

“Who is it? Wait—No! Let me guess.”

Obito brings a gloved hand up to his chin, scratching it thoughtfully.

“Is it Neji? You always seemed to have a love-hate relationship with him. It could be a whole forbidden romance, Romeo and Juliet thing. The tragic romance between an Uchiha and a Hyuuga.”

“No!” Sasuke screams, embarrassment flushing his face red. He should’ve known Obito would do this.

“Could it be Shikamaru? You’ve always been more patient with him than most of your other friends.”

Sasuke tries not to dry heave at the thought.

“How about Kiba? No, that can’t be right. You’re much more of a cat person.”

Sasuke’s shooting the nastiest glare at Obito right now, not that Obito can see him with that eye patch in the way.

“Choji? They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and I’ve heard Choji is quite an accomplished cook.”

Sasuke glances around frantically, hoping no one is awake to hear this humiliating conversation.

“Oh my god, Sasuke,” Obito staggers, falling into Sasuke’s side with his muscled bulk. He lays one dramatic hand over his forehead. “Don’t tell me you stole Lee away from Sakura?!”

“What kind of best friend do you think I am, Obito?”

Sasuke’s breaking out in nervous sweat just imagining what Sakura would do to him if Obito’s prediction actually came true. 

“I’m forgetting someone, aren’t I? Oh right, is it Shino? I don’t know how I feel about that. I have a fear of spiders, you know.”

“IT’S NARUTO!” Sasuke screams in frustration.

He takes a big gulp of air and slaps his hands over his mouth, hoping no one living in the apartments above the street heard him.

“Interesting…” says Obito, his voice quiet and considering.

“Interesting?” Sasuke asks, unsure all of a sudden. 

Naruto is his dream guy, sure, but if Obito doesn’t approve, Sasuke might have to end this thing before it’s even started. Obito is his blood. The last shred of family he has left. No relationship can precede that. Not when Sasuke has promised to spend the rest of his life doing right by Obito.

“I’m kidding.” Obito throws a warm arm around Sasuke’s back, guiding him down the street their apartment is on.

“You’ve had a crush on Naruto for years now. I’m just amazed that he finally made a move.”

“He didn’t ask me out,” Sasuke corrects, oddly irked with Obito’s assumption. “I asked him.”

“Interesting,” Obito says again, this time serious when he speaks.

“In any case, I hope you kids have a good time.”

And they step up onto their front stoop to go inside.

\----

Obito gets to work making breakfast, despite Sasuke’s arguments otherwise, because he’s always insistent about cooking for Sasuke.

Something about “providing for his young” or whatever. Sasuke doesn’t question Obito’s logic. To go down that rabbit hole would surely lead to madness.

So Sasuke lets Obito putter about in the kitchen, his occasional offers to help rebuffed with the viciousness of a mama bear.

Sasuke leaves the kitchen after that, too wigged out by Obito’s freaky fixation on the bacon slowly frying in the stove-top pan.

He’s walking through the living room on the way to change out of his gross pajamas when he trips on something foot-shaped.

Catching himself with his Shinobi-honed reflexes, Sasuke stops and turns, eyes narrowing when he sees a shock of white hair on the cushy living room couch.

His raises hit foot and gives a harder-than-casual kick into Kakashi’s sleeping side.

“Get up, you creep,” he growls out, ignoring the wounded look Kakashi is somehow flashing him with one visible eye.

If Obito is a mama bear, Kakashi is an absent father or deadbeat dad. He only stays over when Obito is in town, completely avoiding Sasuke unless it's during training. 

Sasuke would be offended, except he doesn’t think it’s because of Kakashi’s personal dislike of him. In fact, if Sakura weren’t on Team Seven, Sasuke would probably be Kakashi’s favorite student. They have the same sense of humor, the same love of Obito, and equally introverted personalities. 

Instead, the miscommunication stems from Kakashi’s uncomfortableness with personal boundaries. The man doesn’t have much family beyond Obito and the Hokage and Gai. He’s practically married to his job, considering he ended up in a relationship with one of his teammates. 

Sasuke is a rogue element. Part of Obito’s package deal, and Kakashi’s student too. Kakashi has seen Sasuke at his worst, when he was still young and grieving the death of his family. 

He’s probably scared that Sasuke sees him as a reminder of the bad times, a physical manifestation of death and loss, so he does his best to avoid Sasuke out of misplaced guilt.

Sasuke doesn’t know how to tell Kakashi that’s he’s as much part of their little family as him or Obito, that his kindness to Sasuke kept him going in the long months after the massacre.

Maybe they'll come to a silent understanding one of these days. 

Until then, Sasuke will continue to antagonize his teacher.

“Obito’s in the kitchen making breakfast. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like to actually be a normal human being for once in your life.”

Kakashi murmurs a thank you before dashing off to greet Obito. Sasuke waits a bit before walking in. He doesn’t want to see anything. The two of them may have a very quiet love, but Sasuke’s sure they have needs and desires, like every other person on this earth.

Sasuke lets the scent of bacon waft through the house before following it to the kitchen. Their little dining table is neatly arranged with clean table settings and a heaping plate of bacon and eggs on the central platter. Obito and Kakashi are seated, clearly waiting for him.

Just how Sasuke likes it. He takes a seat and starts to serve himself.

Meanwhile, Obito and Kakashi make conversation. 

“How many confirmed kills?” Kakashi starts, startling Sasuke out of his bacon-and-eggs-induced heaven. 

“Two,” Obito replies through a mouthful of food. “Hidan and Kisame.”

The names itch at the back of Sasuke’s head, familiar and scary in a way he can’t seem to place.

“The immortal one and the shark spirit,” Kakashi supplies, looking at Sasuke.

_They’re talking about S-Ranked Missions,_ Sasuke thinks to himself. 

_They’re talking about assassinating members of Akatsuki._

“You can’t discuss these things in front of me,” he says, voice hollow to his own ears.

“I’m sorry, Sasuke,” Obito says, putting down his fork and fixing Kakashi with a knowing look. “This talk can wait until after breakfast is done.”

Kakashi has one gray eye narrowed at Sasuke, discerning but non-judgemental. “You can keep on talking, Obito,” he decides after a moment. “Sasuke isn’t squeamish about these things. He’s just getting used to his new clearances as a Jounin-level Shinobi.”

This is all news to Sasuke.

“Besides,” Kakashi adds, “This information is pretty need-to-know, especially because the Hokage is considering putting him on one of the tracking teams.”

Sasuke gives up on eating after that.

_Why does no one tell him these things?_

Obito takes that as permission enough to go on, because he proceeds to describe how he murdered two S-Rank missing-nin on a solo mission. And _damn_ should Obito become a writer, because he is graphic.

“I spent forty hours playing cat-and-mouse with Hidan. Charging up Kamui and wearing him down with surprise attacks.”

This, Sasuke doesn’t need explanation for. 

Just as Kakashi and Obito have a matching set of eyes, they have a matching set of abilities for their Sharingan. 

A pocket dimension that Sasuke has only been to once, called Kamui. Obito has better control of it, being an Uchiha by blood, but his always takes a long time to charge up, ideal for moving large and inanimate objects. It also lets Obito phase through objects and projectiles, in a sense.

Kakashi, on the other hand, has a faster, more volatile variation. He can’t get into the dimension on his own, but Kamui responds near instantly to him, shunting small objects off to the pocket world. 

He’s devastatingly clever and positively lethal with it, making kunai disappear on sight and halving torsos with ease.

“He should’ve picked you for the job,” Obito remarks to Kakashi. “It took me hours and hours to get his head off just right, so he couldn’t resurrect himself again. From there, I had to cut off the rest of the limbs and bury them across three different countries. The whole thing took a week in total, where you and one of the Nara clan could’ve gotten it done in a day.”

“Well, I suppose that’s an issue to take up with Minato-sensei,” Kakashi replies, a tinge of amusement in his voice. “Though I never would have lasted forty hours. You know I’m not one for stamina.”

Sasuke groans out loud when his teacher finishes the statement with a lecherous wink.

They go through the nuts and bolts of Hidan’s abilities, affiliations, and assassination, and Sasuke finds himself more drawn in by every passing word.

Before, Akatsuki seemed like some distant, over-hyped boogeyman.

Now, just with a close examination of one member, Sasuke can see why Naruto was so distressed the other night.

These guys are scary sonsabitches. The exact kind of people that could wipe Orochimaru off the map without breaking a sweat.

“And Kisame?”

“Killed himself with his own Jutsu. He decided he’d rather die than talk.”

“That’s a shame,” Kakashi responds, not really sounding at all sorry for the mercenary.

“I did get a bit off of him with the Sharingan before he croaked,” Obito says, dark eye trained carefully on Sasuke.

“He must’ve been unhappy to see that bloodline limit again,” Kakashi comments snidely, his matching eye also trained on Sasuke.

“And I’m sorry that I couldn’t get more, Sasuke.”

Both eyes flash red, or is it just Sasuke’s imagination? He goes still, terrified by what Obito has to say.

“But I do have enough to know that he was Uchiha Itachi’s old partner, before Itachi left Akatsuki. His current location is unknown.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I got a lot of comments last week. The update was a bit polarizing. I love all you guys for feeling so passionately about it and for taking the time out of the day to write something to me, but I want to be clear here so no one has the wrong expectations for what this story is.
> 
> It's a character piece (of sorts) about Sasuke, and this weird au he exists in. I'm writing this for myself because it's fun and I just had to get my ideas out on paper (computer? idk), and I figured I'd publish it on ao3 so I'd get more motivation to write. Also it's writing practice, because I suck at writing. Quantity> quality and eventually something will stick in my brain.
> 
> So yes, I understand that most of you are here for sns, but this story doesn't just come down to that. The relationship between Sasuke and Naruto is flawed. It's a major source of conflict within the story, which follows Sasuke as he tries to reconcile his expectations with reality, all while the universe throws more and more shit at him. 
> 
> It will end happily, because I'm sappy like that.
> 
> But keep on leaving remarks in the comments section below--it helps me check my outline against the finished project, and make sure that what I am trying to say is clearly conveyed to all you lovely readers :)


	4. Unexpected Actions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for animal death and some violence.

The dream is the same every time.

Sasuke stares down at his hands, framed against the dark wood of the Uchiha manor. They’re small and frail, smooth in the way only a child’s can be.

Sasuke is six years old all over again, every jutsu he’s learned wiped from his head and his muscles too untrained and underdeveloped to fight back.

It’s dark outside his bedroom, the only light coming from the full-moon through the window.

The sound of screaming rouses him. 

Unthinkingly, foolishly, Sasuke pulls himself out of bed. A voice in the back of his head screams not to. To curl up under his heavy blue covers and to close his eyes, as tight as possible. To hide away, oblivious to the world around him.

But Sasuke’s legs pull him forward towards the living room. 

When he gets there, his parents are already dead. His father’s dark profile is turned away from Sasuke, facing the front door he must have died fighting at.

His mother’s brown eyes stare unblinkingly out at Sasuke, her hair matted by a pool of her own blood that’s slowly running down the hall.

Even now, Sasuke wonders how his brother could stomach it. If he pushed their mother away so he wouldn’t have to meet the dead eyes of the woman who raised him.

And speak of the devil, because Itachi stands above the forms of Fugaku and Mikoto, a deathly spectre under the cover of night.

Sometimes in the dream, Itachi speaks.

“To test my power,” he drawls, detached and cold.

“Still weak. Still pitiful and defenseless. Do you think you could have saved them?” he spits at Sasuke.

“Find me. Kill me,” he begs.

Other times—the worst times—this time, he says nothing at all.

His eyes flash red, and Sasuke is pulled from the nightmare.

\----

It’s the third time in the past two weeks that Sasuke has woken up in a cold sweat from the dream. 

He should tell someone. Sakura, Tsunade, Obito. Hell, even Ino would get him help.

Dragging himself out of bed, Sasuke pushes the idea aside.

He’s leaving for Suna today, on his first real mission as a Jounin-level Shinobi. He can’t fuck this up now, not before he’s even started.

Besides, the specific parameters of the mission should be easy enough to carry out. It’s a simple escort mission for the Uzumaki Ambassadors to Lightning Country.

It seems downright excessive to send three Jounin to accompany Naruto and Karin up north, but Sasuke won’t complain.

He’s basically getting paid to spend time with his boyfriend.

Pulling on his fresh Jounin vest, Sasuke stills his shaking hands. He grabs Kusunagi from the bedside table, letting the weapon center him like a third appendage.

A deep breath in and out, and everything will be okay.

The recurring nightmares won’t be a problem. Sasuke’s dealt with them before, and the sole reason they’re resurfacing is because of Obito’s dinner table discussions about the missing-nin.

The only common link this mission has to one Uchiha Itachi is Sasuke himself.

In one fluid movement, Sasuke sheathes his sword. He resists the urge to pull Kusunagi back out, already missing that comforting weight in his calloused hands.

With a final glance at his reflection in the mirror, Sasuke heads off to report to the front gate.

\----

Predictably, Karin and Naruto are already waiting at the gate when Sasuke rolls up.

They look deceptively civilian, with their neatly pressed uniforms and heavy packs of scrolls.

Bandits and rogue Shinobi alike would identify them as easy targets for robbery, with their polished complexions and cleanly pressed robes.

Sasuke knows better. He can see from the way Karin’s clothes catch in the wind that the fabric is not silk, but a more flexible, breathable fiber. Something close to Sasuke’s own vest.

Naruto’s delicate mannerisms are too deliberate to be anything but trained, and when the wind shifts ever so slightly, Sasuke catches a whiff of his chakra signature.

He doesn’t have to see to know that Karin has senbon tucked up her sleeve, and that only half the scrolls in Naruto’s pack are actually official documents. Sasuke’s sure that, if correctly applied, one or two of the seals Naruto carries can be used to level entire villages in one go.

Leaning back and gazing at the pair, Sasuke gloats to himself.

Itachi may have had the Akatsuki, but Sasuke has powerful friends in high places, too.

Better this than a band of untrustworthy mercenaries.

“Morning, Sasuke,” chirps a voice from over Sasuke’s left shoulder, startling him out of his train of thought.

Turning around, he comes face-to-face with Tenten.

When he flinches, she laughs, and Sasuke quickly tries to fix his posture.

He can’t afford to embarrass himself in front of the woman any more. Not only is she his teammate for this mission, and a higher-ranking Shinobi that Sasuke himself, but he’s wielding the sword she gifted him last year.

Sasuke is too observant for his pride to deny it—Tenten is something of a role model for him. While she may not have the largest chakra reserves or the most encyclopedic knowledge of Jutsu, she is undoubtedly one of the best weapons masters in the village.

Even as a Genin, Sasuke would fixate on Tenten during joint training exercises, and how skillfully she seemed to handle every blade that passed through her hands. He heard rumors from the other children at the time that Tenten’s family was from the far north, where icy terrain was rich in iron.

But still, they never interacted much outside of training, an unspoken respect forming between them over the years.

Which is why it was such a surprise that Tenten gifted him with a sword on his eighteenth birthday, alongside sturdy leather gloves from Sakura, another potted plant from Naruto, and a neat scrapbook lovingly crafted by Obito.

When he presented the sword to Kakashi the next week in training, Kakashi was impressed. A trained swordsman himself, he quietly commented that it was samurai-crafted, something very rare this deep into Shinobi land.

So Sasuke embarked on a mission to master the art of the blade. Tenten must have seen something in him, to think he was worthy of such a valuable and beautiful gift, and Sasuke did his best to fulfill that image.

Now, when he dreams of defeating Itachi in battle, he sees himself with blood red eyes and Kusanagi in his hands.

“I brought your sword with me,” he offers, unsure what else to say to her.

_You could’ve said good morning back,_ a voice teases in his head, gratingly familiar like a certain blonde-haired diplomat.

Tenten’s eyes flicker down to Sasuke’s hip before sliding back up to his face. 

“So you did,” she responds with something like amusement. “I’d say that I hope I can see you use it, but that’s counterintuitive to our mission.”

Sasuke blinks before letting out a belated chuckle, but Tenten is already walking away to engage in pleasantries with Karin and Naruto.

He lets out a frustrated sigh and drags his feet over to their little huddle.

Glancing at his watch, he wonders when the final member of their party is going to arrive. Five more seconds, and the Jounin is going to be late—something that only Kakashi would have the balls to do.

But just as Sasuke’s watch ticks onto the hour, a puff of smoke clouds his vision. Glancing up in annoyance, he sees a hulking figure before him, clad in standard Jounin garb.

Sasuke isn’t afraid to admit that Sarutobi Asuma cuts an impressive figure. The man is all muscle and bravado, oozing of confidence and testosterone. Sasuke only remembers the Sandaime as an old man, but he wonders if this is what he must have looked like in his younger days.

Impressive enough to receive the title “God of Shinobi” from rival villages.

Once upon a time, Sasuke wished he could have someone like Sarutobi Asuma as a teacher. Back when he was an ungrateful Genin who hadn’t had the chance to see Kakashi in action, only remembering him as the lazy, sometimes-boyfriend of Sasuke’s legal guardian.

He saw Ino and Shikamaru and Choji getting stronger underneath Asuma’s careful tutelage, and thought that he could have the same potential, if given a chance.

Now, five years down the road, and Sasuke can only laugh. He knows that Asuma is a powerful Jounin, his background as an ex-bodyguard of the Fire Daimyo making him perfectly suited for this escort mission, but he is far from the best Shinobi in the village.

That honor is reserved for those who hide their true colors from the enemy until the moment they strike. 

People like Minato, whose sunny smile and peaceful exterior belies a war-forged genius. Someone like Tsunade, a drunkard hiding the most powerful bloodline in Shinobi history. Or Sakura, whose dainty fists shatter bones and earth alike. Obito and Kakashi, coexisting as lazy good-for-nothings and cold-blooded assassins in the same breath.

Or Itachi, who played the part of beloved older brother and favorite son until the most he slayed the entire clan, down to every last man, woman, and child.

Sasuke gazes up at Asuma, who towers so impressive above him, and he stares.

Like any good Shinobi Sasuke will wear his mask. Insolent teenager and and traumatized child, all lanky limbs and anger issues. 

They forget too easily that Uchiha blood runs in his veins, and no one can live through the experiences he has without a core of steel.

Asuma snorts at his insolence. With one more puff of smoke from his cigarette, he turns towards the gates, pushing his way past Tenten and Karin and Naruto.

“Let’s go kiddos,” he calls out ahead, oblivious to the glares everyone is shooting at his back. “I’d like to be back in Konoha by next week.”

“Bureaucracy has never been fast, asshole,” Karin murmurs under her breath. Nevertheless, she follows Asuma down the road.

Exchanging a quick smile with Naruto, Sasuke falls to his spot at the back of the group, automatically tuning in to their surroundings with a practiced ease.

\----

“—and I’m just saying that the embargo on Lightning Country was totally within their rights to carry out!” Karin fires back, her skin heating up, getting closer and closer to the shade of her hair with each second.

“Yeah,” Naruto fires back, his face the same tomato shade, “the trade cutoff was a perfectly good idea at the start, like embargoes always are, but Kiri didn’t think it through!”

“How so? Kumo pulled their troops away, exactly like Kiri asked!”

“Because,” Naruto replies, voice steely cold, “you’re forgetting one simple thing.”

Karin squints her eyes before bringing a palm to forehead. 

“Please don’t say the Great Autumn Famine—”

“The Great Autumn Famine! Cutting off trade routes with Kumo stopped the exchange of rich soil they needed to plant crops in Kiri that spring, and when fall rolled around, they had one of the greatest food shortages in all of Hidden Village history.”

“And they recovered,” Karin interrupts, pushing her glasses back up her nose, “when Kumo backed off.”

“Kumo backed off, and two months later, the whole world went to war,” Naruto continues, his eyes narrowing in seriousness. “Kiri was already hit hard by the famine, to the point that they were too weak to defend themselves when Kumo showed up on their doorstop, leading to the sack of Kirigakure.”

“You can’t prove those two events are linked,” Karin shouts, throwing an accusing finger at Naruto.

“No,” he says, turning his nose up in that smug way that shows he knows he’s won, “but it’s quite a coincidence that this exact series of events happened in such a short period of time.”

Karin groans in frustration, stomping down the road so she’s closer to Asuma than Naruto.

“It’s not your fault!” Naruto calls out, the grin on his face too gloating to be sincere. “You make the same mistake as every other politician.”

“And what’s that?” She growls out, turning to face Naruto with clenched fists.

“You get caught up in the spectacle of it all—the military history, the major bills and laws getting passed, the Kages and their subordinates—that you forget about the common people.”

“Maybe I do that because the average civilian doesn’t have the same power and influence as a Daimyo, Naruto!”

There’s a beat of silence as Naruto considers his answer.

“You’re right. One civilian doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things,” he finally concedes, uncharacteristically humble in the midst of an argument, “but average people outnumber a Daimyo by millions. The weak become strong, and even the most insignificant detail can change the tide of a war.”

Karin huffs in response, unsure how to proceed against the statement.

“What do you think, Sasuke?” she calls out abruptly, her voice sneering on the Uchiha’s name.

“What?” stumbles Sasuke. His eyes had sort of glazed over at the mention of history, his ears trained to tune out loud Uzumaki arguments from years of experience.

“You picked a real winner here, Naruto,” she scowls, turning her attention away from a bewildered Sasuke.

“What she means to say,” Naruto corrects, his kind smile meeting Sasuke’s own, “is that she wants to know your opinion. Do you think something as unimportant as one farmer can affect global politics?”

Sasuke thinks back to a night a few weeks ago, when he gazed out at the stars. Billions upon billions of them, unknown to Sasuke, an infinite number of possibilities for what lies out there on the edge of the known universe.

“I think,” he starts cautiously, unsure how he can phrase what he feels, “that we should fight for the average civilian. To lose sight of that goal is to grow corrupt.”

Asuma whistles. 

“Who knew Uchiha was so idealistic?” he snarks, not even deigning to turn around.

Before Sasuke can fire back, Tenten speaks up.

“I agree with Sasuke,” she says, the confidence in her voice requiring no further justification for her beliefs.

“Looks like it’s three to two, Karin,” Naruto announces, blowing a kiss over his shoulder to Tenten and Sasuke. “Majority rules, and you and hotbox over there are outnumbered.”

Sasuke is already anticipating the yelling, eyes roving over the treeline in boredom.

This trip might be a bit longer than he originally thought.

\----

Sasuke lets out a silent thank-you to Uzumaki Kushina, for having the foresight to train her son and niece in the Shinobi arts.

Any other fat cat client, and the journey to Lightning country would have taken a whole week.

With Karin and Naruto’s steady pace, they make it to the capital in four days flat.

The journey is still unbelievably long, thanks to the ongoing arguments between the two Uzumakis, and Sasuke’s unfamiliarity with Tenten and Asuma, but there’s something more than that.

Sasuke’s sure he’s not imagining things, from the way his skin crawls every time he looks down at the road behind them.

Seeing the rooftops of the capital from above the tree line is more of a relief than Sasuke can say. 

For the moment, they are safe.

Up ahead, Asuma is conversing with the front guards, an easiness in his posture and natural charm Sasuke hasn’t seen this entire trip.

Naruto and Karin have already entered with Tenten on their heels, the process to get into the village surprisingly easy.

Sasuke is sure that is a privilege afforded only to them.

Even this far away from Fire Country, Naruto and Karin’s identities are unmistakable. They look so different than everyone here, with their brilliant hair and warm skin and elegant robes.

Sasuke closes his eyes and lets the feeling of that ocean-breeze chakra run over his senses, soothing in the same way as Obito’s hugs.

He is glad to be on this mission with them. 

It’s rare for a Shinobi to do much good in the world, their jobs usually falling under the categories of spying, assassinations, or backstabbing.

But today Sasuke gets to be an escort for the Uzumakis, whose purpose is to help people around the world in whatever way they can.

“Sticking up for the little guy,” as Naruto likes to say.

\----

And there sure are a lot of little guys here in the capital.

It’s nightfall on their second day here, and Naruto and Karin finally finished up their excruciating meetings with the Lightning Daimyo. Sasuke tuned out most of it, thinking about the cats at the stray shelter back in Konoha and whether he could train them to attack Neji on sight, but even he picked up some of the meeting’s content.

Something about an illness plaguing the local towns around the capital and the possibility of water contamination? Sasuke’s not quite sure, but they resolved the issue with Naruto’s promise to send a Konoha specialist and some civil engineers out to fix the issue next week.

With a smug grin, Sasuke wonders whether they’ll drag Tsunade or Sakura out here. Both will put up a fuss if they’re away from the hospital for too long.

Caught up in the image of a rabid and sober Tsunade, Sasuke barely notices that their party has left the building.

Naruto whispers something into Karin’s ear before pushing her away. She pauses to glare at Sasuke, but Naruto doesn’t see it, too busy saying goodnight to Tenten and Asuma.

Sasuke stares at the Jounin’s retreating backs, too confused to react to Karin’s stink-eye.

Once the other three are gone, Naruto snatches up Sasuke’s hand, dragging him away from the courtyard of the Daimyo’s palace and into a winding, narrow alleyway.

“What’s going on?” Sasuke asks, tensing up at the possibility of danger. 

Naruto stops and turns around, face shrouded in nightly shadows. 

“We’re going on a date, silly.”

“What about the mission?” 

Naruto laughs at that, pushing his bangs up and out of his eyes when he finally straightens out from his hunched position.

“Negotiations are done, Sasuke. The only part left in the mission is to return to Konoha tomorrow.”

“And besides,” he continues, pulling Sasuke flush against him and dropping his voice to a husky whisper, “I worked out a few extra negotiations with your superior officers. They seem to agree that you’re enough protection detail for the night.”

Sasuke huffs a laugh at that. If anyone is going to protect anyone in this labyrinth of a city, it’s going to be Naruto. He throws a punch almost as hard as Sakura, and he’s a hell of a lot quicker.

“Okay, Romeo. Show me what you’ve got.”

Naruto flashes him a cheshire smile, turning away and dragging Sasuke back down the alleyway as if they never stopped for this little sidebar.

“Have you ever been to the Lightning Capital before?”

Sasuke blinks once as they step out of the alleyway onto a crowded street. The lights here are bright, and the soft glow of the extravagant lanterns seems to permeate every last bit of darkness. The street is so packed with market stalls, there’s almost no room for actual pedestrians. 

Naruto squeezes them past a fruit stall overflowing with every color of the rainbow. Sasuke does his best not to linger, trying desperately to keep up with his boyfriend.

This place is so unfamiliar, it might as well be an alien world.

“No.”

“Then you’re in for a treat!” Naruto is yelling over the chaos of the city, his attention focused solely on Sasuke.

It’s like sitting under a magnifying glass or getting sunburnt. 

All Sasuke can do is bask in it, ignorant to the painful edge of Naruto’s presence.

“And here we are.”

They walk up to a small stoop of a restaurant, the decorative windows on either side written in some local dialect Sasuke can’t understand. 

_Talk about local_ , Sasuke thinks with a growing sense of apprehension.

“Before we go inside,” Naruto announces, his smile straightening out into something more serious, “I need you to promise to let me do the talking inside.”

Sasuke doesn’t like the sound of that. For all of Naruto’s diplomatic skills, he has a way of getting himself into trouble. And their trek through the dark alleyway proved that Naruto is already feeling a bit too ballsy tonight.

“Why should I do that? I’m my own damn person,” he growls out. Giving Naruto attitude has a fifty-fifty chance of getting him to calm down. The other option is escalation, so Sasuke’s hoping the odds are in his favor tonight. He can’t afford to screw up his first mission in any way, not when it involves one of Konoha’s most precious citizens.

He can afford to screw up this newfound relationship, either.

Naruto leans in close, that goddamn cat grin making an appearance on his face for the second time tonight.

“Depending on what we order off the menu, we’re either getting the best meal of our lives, or food poisoning.”

Sasuke doesn’t like the sound of that at all. Still, at least it’s only an issue with the food and not the customers. He’d bet money that Naruto personally knows the owners of this restaurant.

“Fine,” he finds himself agreeing, tamping down on the faint feelings of annoyance starting to form at the back of his skull. 

Naruto isn’t purposefully trying to make him feel out of place or insecure. He probably thought this whole thing would be a fun adventure for Sasuke. Good intentions, as the saying goes.

Without further ado, Naruto pushes him into the restaurant.

\----

Sasuke would never say it out loud, but Naruto had a point about the food quality. Their table is loaded with half-eaten plates full of delicacies—lightly fried vegetables and heavily-seasoned noodles that Sasuke has no hope of pronouncing correctly. 

At the same time, he can see a group of locals at the table next to them who seem to be eating raw squid and fermented...something. The picky eater inside of him gags at the sight.

Across from him, Naruto takes one last bite of food before settling back into his chair, happy and full. The conversation kind of dwindled when they started eating, Naruto too well trained in manners to talk with a mouthful of food, and Sasuke too reserved to keep up a one-sided conversation.

Naruto pokes at a fried piece of meat with his chopsticks.

“Seems like a waste for us to throw away all this food.”

As good as the food was, Sasuke feels nauseous at the thought of eating one more bite of food.

“Your stomach may be a black hole, but mine isn’t.”

Naruto rolls his eyes, looking like the spitting image of his cousin in that second.

“No, stupid, I’m not suggesting we eat anymore. I just think we should take the leftovers back with us.”

A flicker of annoyance. Sasuke folds his napkin and throws it onto the table. He’s seen Naruto do this too many times, with his clever words and cheery smile. One use of the word “we” and Sasuke is putty in his hands. 

“I’m not carrying your damn leftovers back to Konoha.”

A beat of shocked silence.

“I was thinking we’d just drop them off at a homeless shelter tonight or give them to someone on the street who seems like they need it.”

A familiar surge of guilt swells in Sasuke’s chest at his harsh response. 

“Right. Sorry,” he chokes out, eyes looking anywhere but at Naruto’s face.

There’s a disappointed sigh from across the table.

“Let’s just get our check and go,” Naruto says.

Sasuke nods in agreement, still too embarrassed to pick up the conversation.

Stupid, he thinks, clenching his fists hard in frustration.

\----

Naruto gives him a chaste kiss on the lips before heading up to his hotel room. He doesn’t invite Sasuke up to his room, and Sasuke tells himself that the only reason why is Naruto’s exhaustion from a long day of negotiations. 

Still, there’s disappointment festering in his gut, and a wonderful hotel bar right down the hall from here.

The night is young.

\----

They don’t bother to check his I.D. when he orders. The glower on his face and his rumpled Jounin vest are convincing enough.

“Tough night?”

Sasuke stiffens at the question, his head slowly turning to the man who just spoke.

It’s an all-too familiar face, and Sasuke wonders how he could have ignored the stench of smoke until now.

“Asuma?”

The man chuckles, low and quiet.

“Obviously. You aren’t the only man who likes to finish up his night with a drink.”

Sasuke turns his head back to the counter, hoping the older man doesn’t see the flush of embarrassment on his face.

“I take it date night didn’t go so well?”

Sasuke shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the disorientation he’s starting to feel. He never thought of Asuma as the perceptive type. 

“Yeah,” he finds himself saying, much to the protest of his own inner thoughts. This is not the conversation he wants to be having, and this is not the person he wants to be conversing with.

“That whole family can be a bit much to handle. It’s a good thing the Hokage is so patient. I can’t imagine anyone else being able to deal with Kushina for more than twenty years straight.”

Sasuke tries to stifle his laughter. It’s not right to make fun of Naruto’s own mother, no matter how true Asuma’s words might ring.

“That might have been a bit harsh,” Asuma admits, taking another swig of his scotch. 

“It’s fair,” Sasuke confesses, his voice low in case of prying ears. “Sometimes I think they’re forces of nature, rather than people. Everything about them—about Naruto—is too bright to be human.”

Asuma swirls the remaining liquid around his glass.

“Maybe so. That belief doesn’t really seem like the foundation for a healthy relationship, though.”

Sasuke sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s had this conversation before. 

“I get it.”

Sasuke looks at the older man, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“I may not be dating Mr. Sunshine himself, but I get the inferiority complex thing. Growing up as the son of a Hokage was hard.”

Sarutobi—How could Sasuke forget? He was named after the man’s ancient ancestor, for god’s sake. 

“Must’ve been one hell of a legacy to live up to.”

Asuma nods sagely, eyes not quite tracking Sasuke’s own face.

“It was. I spent my whole childhood living under my father’s shadow.”

Sasuke gulps in anticipation. 

“So how did you get over it?”

Asuma snorts, turning back to his drink.

“I ran away. Fucked around a bit in Wind Country, nearly got myself killed by one too many Kunoichi. Eventually I found myself a job as bodyguard for the Daimyo.”

“And?” Sasuke is so focused on Asuma’s story, he doesn’t even notice himself leaning in, crowding the Jounin’s personal space.

“And it didn’t change a damn thing. After a few years, I figured enough was enough. I came back to Konoha and got myself a Genin team.”

“That’s it?”

A large palm grabs at Sasuke’s own vest, pushing him back into his own chair.

“Yeah,” Asuma growls, “That’s it.”

“Then what the hell did you tell me this for?”

“Because, kid, you still haven’t figured it out.”

“Figured out what?” Sasuke’s starting to lose his patience. Of course it was a bad idea to talk to a creepy old man in a bar late at night. Sasuke had no expectations, but he’s still let down. He turns back to Asuma and jumps in surprise.

The man’s scooted his bar stool closer, so close that Sasuke can hear his heavy breathing and smell the stench of old cigarettes. Sitting like this, they have no room to look anywhere but each other. 

Asuma sighs, the same way Kakashi sounds whenever Sai or Sasuke say something stupid during training. 

“You don’t get to wish away your doubts and insecurities with the snap of your fingers. Those demons inside your head—the ones that keep you up at night and second guess your every move—don’t disappear with time or travel or tragedy.”

“Then what’s the fucking point?!”

His voice echoes through the bar, too loud for the relaxed, late-night atmosphere. 

Sasuke shifts in his seat, aware of all the eyes trained on him now. Only Asuma doesn’t dare look, too focused on whatever lays on the bottom of his drink.

Counting down from ten, Sasuke begins to unclench his fists. He rolls his shoulders back and slumps into the counter.

“The point is that you find a way to continue on, despite it all. You wake up one day, and you have a wife and kid and students who love you, and you worry it’s not enough. You couldn’t protect your family the last time around, so what’s the point of even trying?”

The words ring true in Sasuke’s ears, too familiar to be anything other than truth.

“Then your kid wakes you up at four in the fucking morning because she had a nightmare, so you deal with that, never mind the fact that you have to leave for a mission in two hours. And your wife wakes up and makes you breakfast, telling you to go pack while she handles the kid. So you do.”

Well, maybe not so similar to Sasuke, after all.

“Life carries on, Sasuke. Might as well make the most of it while you still can.”

And Asuma is heaving himself up off the barstool, his back turned towards the exit before Sasuke can reply. He doesn’t look like the Sandaime. Hell, at this moment, he doesn’t even look like a Jounin. All Sasuke sees is another man—no better or worse than a Suna street urchin or the Fire Daimyo himself.

\----

Sasuke’s eyes are glued to the sky, waiting to the hawk summon he sent out thirty minutes ago return. 

Now that they’re back on the trail, Sasuke’s earlier sense of uneasiness has returned in full force. 

The sense of danger isn’t helped by his traveling companions. Asuma’s slumped posture and grumpier-than-usual behavior are all too characteristic of a hangover, and Karin seems even bitchier today, her voice loud and snappy enough to be heard miles down the road.

Worst of all is Naruto, who looked at him this morning with a pleasant smile and a cheery tone, like the previous night never even happened. But Sasuke knows better. He knows the fake face Naruto puts on in front of difficult council members, the demure way he handles all family issues. Naruto has always been one to keep his cards close to the chest, but Sasuke is used to being able to look over his shoulder.

Now, he finds himself seated across the playing table.

There’s a poke at Sasuke’s shoulder, insistent and hard. Sasuke jumps, scrambling for the kunai strapped to his waist, but Tenten’s hand lands there first.

She looks at Sasuke, the left side of her lips tilted up ever so slightly.

“You good?” She whispers, voice soft enough that it only reaches Sasuke’s ears.

He gazes out front—Asuma’s clumsy gait and Karin’s rigid posture. The gentle curve of Naruto’s back is a wall, insurmountable and impassive.

Not that he’ll tell any of that to Tenten.

“I’m getting by,” he says, exhaling deep and slow to calm his jittery heartbeat. “I just have a bad feeling.”

Tenten glances behind them, then up at the sky, where Sasuke’s hawk is making another round.

“Me too.”

\----

The attack doesn’t come that night, nor the next day.

No. 

It comes on their final day of travel, a scant fifteen miles outside of Konoha. So deep into Fire Country that any Rogue-Nin with an ounce of sense wouldn’t dare go near.

The Akatsuki are not reasonable or sane. It was easy to pretend from behind the walls of Konoha that they were no more than an urban legend, the kind of boogeymen that fully grown Chunin can brush off with a simple hand wave.

Sasuke knows better. Obito’s stories and the Hokage’s word are proof enough.

He knows that the Akatsuki are the exact type of ballsy to ambush their party so close to home, the same way they hunted down Orochimaru the Sanin, the same way they make their presence and intentions towards the young Kazekage of Suna so clear.

It doesn’t make him any more prepared for the attack.

There are only two of them, but Sasuke and the others are easily overwhelmed. 

The covered man makes a move towards Asuma first, easily identifying him the most experienced combatant and biggest threat.

Sasuke’s brain strains at the man’s image, trying to remember Obito’s words. It isn’t until he sees the inky black limbs pouring out of the man’s body to meet Asuma’s wind cleaver that he identifies him.

The flesh-stealer, Obito called him. Hidan’s partner, the more volatile and dangerous of the pair.

Sasuke’s eyes narrow on the man, chakra already pooling in the back of his head and through his fingertips in preparation for an attack.

But in the split second it takes Sasuke to activate his Sharingan, he is being tackled by a blonde form.

Sasuke extricates himself from Naruto, only to find a swarm of birds in the spot he just stood.

A woman steps out from behind the cluster, one fist slamming shut.

His spinning red eyes catch the approaching forms of Tenten and Karin, their combined killing intent so strong even Sasuke flinches back. He is relieved that they are on his side in this fight.

But his would-be allies are too slow, because the woman raises her two arms, and Sasuke and Naruto are lost in a sea of white.

\----

Sasuke breathes out a fireball so grand, it would make even Obito proud. It burns a five-foot radius around Sasuke, tearing through the woman’s paper birds like its nothing.

Sasuke would stop to gloat, except he knows that there's more where that came from. Instead, he takes his precious few seconds to wipe blood from his eyes, where it has started dripping down from a shallow cut on his forehead.

If you’d asked Sasuke how he felt about Origami only a few days ago, he would have laughed in your face. Nothing more than a children’s craft. What could the art of paper folding have to possibly do with being a good Shinobi?

In Konan’s case, it sure seems like the two are linked. Sasuke isn’t laughing now, not with how a thousand paper cuts litter his body like starbursts.

He’s killed a thousand of these things, but Konan doesn’t seem to care. She’s anchored herself in the sky above, great wings of paper that her birds flock in and out of. Sasuke can see her from here, her face placid and calm, like she’s merely playing with Sasuke and Naruto.

In a way, she is, because her origami reinforcements just don’t stop. How many fucking acres did she have to deforest for these kinds of resources?

Sasuke is about to open his mouth in an attempt to taunt and distract the woman when he hears Naruto’s scream of frustration.

_There._

Blanketed by swirling white, Sasuke can make out Naruto’s shimmery robes.

He curses inwardly, realizing he hasn't bothered to check in with the boy since Naruto first tackled him to the ground.

And unlike Sasuke, Naruto has no fancy eyes or fiery jutsu to protect himself from Konan’s swarm.

Armed with only Taijutsu and a few scrolls, he makes the perfect target for this type of attack. 

His form is sinking now, and even from afar, Sasuke can tell how Naruto is turtling himself, trying to cover every bit of exposed skin from the endless onslaught of birds. But the papers are tenacious, sharp and capable of tearing through of all fabric but a jounin flak vest.

If Sasuke doesn’t intervene now, Naruto’s going to drop from blood loss.

A deep inhale, and Sasuke is flinging himself forward at Naruto’s cowering form, the perfect image of a fearsome dragon, flaming breath and all.

He manages to stop himself just short of Naruto, only singing the very tips of the boy’s golden hair.

Sasuke catches his breath, expecting to hear a nice “thank you” or a gushing “my hero” from his boyfriend.

The tinge of disappointment in his chest is gone in a flash when Naruto scratches out a blood sigil onto the ground by his feet, slamming his hands down just in time for Konan’s next barrage.

The paper stabs uselessly at a deep blue barrier that surrounds the pair of boys. Naruto still hasn’t picked himself up, but Sasuke can sense his vibrating chakra in the air around them, shielding them from Konan’s birds.

“We need a plan,” Naruto wheezes out, voice too weak for Sasuke’s liking.

Sasuke palms at Kusanagi nervously, the weight of the metal comfortable in his hands. Glancing down at the sword, he feels a pang of regret at its uselessness in this fight. “Fire jutsus seem to be working pretty nicely.” 

“The drawbacks?” Naruto replies, barely above a whisper.

“I can’t hold my breath forever,” Sasuke notes, still feeling a bit winded from his rescue attempt. He looks up at Konan’s hovering form, her wings shifting with unactivated paper jutsu. “And burning the birds doesn’t seem to be doing much. Konan is still untouched, and she’s got a hell of a lot more paper.”

Naruto hums to himself, the silence only broken by the dim sound of paper crashing against their barrier. Sasuke doesn’t want to point it out, but the makeshift field seems to flickering more rapidly now than it was ten seconds ago.

There’s a tugging at his pants, and when Sasuke glances down, he finally catches Naruto’s face.

He is so much worse off than Sasuke thought. There are scratches layered over scratches on Naruto’s face, and sheets of blood run down his face so that the only distinguishable features on his face are the whites of his eyes.

Still, his voice is hard as steel when he speaks.

“We need to get Konan to stop that jutsu.”

Sasuke’s in agreement there. He’s just not sure how they can make this happen.

“Do you have enough chakra to activate the Sharingan?”

Sasuke stills at the mention of his bloodline limit. He’d completely forgotten to use it, the increased perception not much use when every square of his space was being filled with paper birds.

“Yes.”

He hopes his voice doesn’t betray the nervousness he feels at relying on such a fickle weapon.

“I need you to put a Genjutsu on Konan. Anything to get the origami to stop.”

_Anything but that,_ Sasuke wants to say. Instead, he holds his tongue. This is a matter of if he should, not if he can, and for that reason alone, Sasuke considers the possibility.

It’s a big request. 

Underneath all the blood and pain and panic, Sasuke can see the apology in Naruto’s eyes. There are so many shared secrets between the two of them—Naruto is well aware of Sasuke’s disdain for the Sharingan’s true purpose. 

It stems from the night of the massacre. Every document about the incident, down to Sasuke’s hospital bill, are neatly filed away in the vault, Hokage signature and all. They’re shockingly detailed, down to the time of death and blood types of Sasuke’s baby cousins.

And when it comes to the sequence of events, they’re all incorrect.

He doesn’t know who edited the information that night. Maybe it was Obito or Kakashi, overprotective for the boy they just met. Maybe it was the Hokage, too kind and benevolent for the Shinobi world. Maybe it was the random Yamanaka that performed Sasuke’s psych eval.

Sasuke doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care. All he knows is that night, when he stumbled across his parents’ still-cooling corpses and Itachi’s shrouded figure, he didn’t pass out from fear or a panic attack, or whatever bullshit the report might say.

Sasuke looked Itachi dead in the eyes, and fell into the world of Tsukuyomi.

It was a unique illusion. 

One created by Itachi with the express purpose of torturing Sasuke on repeat, until Obito snapped him out of the illusion and Tsunade patched up his mind.

But the Genjutsu lives on in Sasuke’s mind. He relives it in his nightmares. Helpless to resist, finding his parents, seeing Itachi’s betrayal, and those red, red eyes.

Rinse and repeat.

It’s no wonder Sasuke despises Sharingan-borne Genjutsu, when he is one of its victims.

Naruto is still looking at him, breaths short and wheezy and wet-sounding. Sasuke may not be a medic-nin, but he knows something is wrong. Around them, the barrier is now flickering too fast for Sasuke’s liking, casting them in something like strobe lights. The paper birds are growing more insistent.

“I’ll do it.”

“What do you need?” Naruto asks. Not "I’m sorry" or "Thank you". 

“A clear line of sight.” The Sharingan requires eye contact to be of any use, and if Sasuke isn’t close enough to Konan, this entire plan will fail.

Naruto nods, already on the same page.

“I’ll can get a pretty big wind jutsu going. It should create a big enough path for you to move in and cast the Genjutsu.”

Naruto is all business and tactics, talking like he isn’t on his last legs, bleeding out and probably suffering from chakra depletion. 

He’s cast his face downwards again, away from Sasuke so that all Sasuke can see are the red-stained tips of his blonde hair and torn fabric of his once immaculate robes.

Naruto is hiding something. 

Sasuke reworks the plan in his mind when it dawns on him.

“You’re leaving yourself open to attack. The moment I step away, the birds are going to swarm you again.”

Sasuke’s voice pitches low, soft enough that it’s hard for even his own ears to register.

“I won’t be able to protect you.”

Naruto laughs, something broken and unfamiliar in his voice. “I think I can handle myself for a few more minutes.”

Minutes? Naruto looks like he can barely handle a few more seconds, let alone a few minutes. The barrier crackles above them flickering out of existence long enough for a few paper birds to get inside.

When the barrier flickers back on, it slices the birds in half, the bits of paper fluttering uselessly around Sasuke’s face like snow and ashes.

“Besides,” Naruto adds, his fingers tracing out another blood seal onto the dirt path, “If you do your job right, Konan will be running away faster than her birds can keep up.”

And the barrier falls.

Sasuke’s leaping out without a second thought, feet thundering on the ground in front of him and arms shifted behind. Subconsciously, he’s drawn Kusanagi to his side, poised for an attack on Konan that will never come.

He may not be facing a mirror, but Sasuke knows his eyes are brown, the world too blurry and fast-paced for anything other than normal vision. He lets Naruto’s gale of wind do the heavy lifting, using the distraction to advance towards his target.

He stops when he’s almost directly underneath her wings, the wind tunnel around him still flowing powerfully enough to protect Sasuke from any stray birds.

His head is pounding with built up chakra, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

He angles his eyes up towards Konan, and slowly, ever so slowly, she lowers her eyes to meet his. There’s a flash of pity on her face when she sees his hands clutched trembling around the sword, pitiful and alone. She does not suspect a thing.

Gentle amber eyes meet deep brown, and the world turns red.

\----

Konan’s mind is strange and two-dimensional, splashes of watercolor against stark white. It’s a landscape of paper folds and cuts, eerily similar to her signature jutsu in the outside world.

Sasuke has only been inside one mind before this, and that was with the express purpose of learning how to use a Sharingan-powered Genjutsu. It's strange to perform it now, the intent to harm laid heavy across Sasuke’s shoulders.

Compared to Obito’s mindscape, Konan’s is somewhat childish. Where Obito had a great and sturdy tree, the memories trailing across its branches like leaves, Konan has dollhouses and flower bushes and tittering little birds, all in that damn paper fold style. It’s like she never properly grew up. Or maybe, she’s holding onto the past so hard that it’s augmented her entire brain.

Sasuke reaches out a hand, snatching one of the little birds from the air. When it makes contact with his hand, it shrivels up into ash, and Sasuke feels a release in the air around him.

Instinctively, Sasuke knows he’s just shut off that annoying origami jutsu.

He takes a few more steps around the place, getting comfortable with his surroundings.

Sasuke may have disabled the biggest threat to him and Naruto in the outside world, but Konan isn’t a member of Akatsuki for nothing. The moment Sasuke sets her free, she’ll have more tricks up her sleeve. She won’t fall for Sasuke’s Sharingan a second time.

What Sasuke needs is a compulsion. A way to scare Konan off, even after the Genjutsu has worn out.

It’s a tricky problem to approach, akin to walking a tightrope while juggling flaming knives. If Sasuke is too threatening with the illusion, Konan will retaliate in the real world. As a trained Shinobi, she’s far more likely to succumb to a fight, rather than flight option.

So, in order to scare her off, Sasuke can’t conjure up kunai-wielding enemies or mythological figures or monsters that go bump in the night. He has to dig into Konan’s internal fears, calling on demons she won’t be able to kill with a well-aimed jutsu.

This is the other challenge. Sasuke’s spent enough time with medical professionals and sick patients alike to know how fragile the human brain truly is. Exert too much force, and Konan’s brain will snap instead of bend.

If Sasuke were to burn Konan’s brain to ash while he was still inside, neither would survive the procedure. And if Sasuke did somehow manage to dissolve Konan’s mind without killing her, there’s no telling how she would react in the real world. 

An insane Shinobi is far more dangerous than a sane one. At least you can predict the actions of someone capable of logical thought.

Pushing aside his doubt and fears of possible outcomes, Sasuke makes a plan. He’s read a couple different theories on the subject of long-lasting Genjutsu, and how to make their effects carry on even when the connection is broken.

It seems that tampering with memories, or just summoning them up in the first place, gives the best results. 

Sasuke knows it from firsthand experience. Itachi made sure he could never forget the night of the massacre, and now, Sasuke is going to enact that same type of torture on another human being. 

There’s a moment of hesitation, but Sasuke dismisses it quickly. This is a necessary evil. A matter of life and death for Sasuke and Naruto. For a cause as personal as that, Sasuke is willing to do far more than violate an international terrorist’s mind.

He plants his feet firmly on the ground, arms stretching out so that his fingertips extend to a nearby paper house, its walls pulsating with the energy of stored memories.

Sasuke imagines himself in her shoes. Small, weak, afraid. Running, because it's all she can do to survive. Slowly, then all at once like a trickle-turned-tsunami, the memories come rushing forward.

Sasuke doesn’t cling too hard to the rush, only catching glimpses of a destroyed Amegakure and a Great Shinobi War. Konan is small and fiery, and there are two redheaded boys stuck to her side, until one day, it’s just one.

It means nothing to Sasuke, and he doesn’t care to give it more scrutiny. These memories are for Konan and Konan alone.

Taking a step back from the painful moment, Sasuke slips his hands through a pile of flowers now pouring from the house, physical evidence of Konan’s worst memories.

Making her relive these memories isn’t enough. It won’t prevent Konan from recovering once she’s in the real world.

No. Sasuke has to go a step farther.

He scoops up one ornate rose, palming it gently.

He brings his hand together, crumbling the memory flower within, and the world around him gives a giant shudder.

Sasuke pays no heed, already discarding the rose for a bigger, brighter one. He tears the corners of this one, the paper material giving way easily under flesh and bone. Sasuke notes with a sort of detachment that his treatment is amplifying Konan’s pain, her memories becoming a whole other branch of reality, too textured and technicolored to be ignored.

Sasuke glances down out the pile, which isn’t big, compared to the pools and gaps in Obito’s own memory. At this rate, it shouldn’t take too long to destroy the rest of the flowers.

He gets to work.

\----

Sasuke tumbles out of Konan’s mind with a throbbing headache, his legs shaky underneath him.

He watches with baited breath as Konan comes to, her wings still managing to beat hard enough that Sasuke’s bangs kick up in the wind.

Her amber eyes snap open, followed by her pierced lips. An anguished scream rings forth, and Sasuke shrinks back at the sound. It may have come from a grown woman, but the scream is that of a child. The child of Konan’s tarnished memories.

She finally stops to catch some air, sobs tearing out of her chest in the absence of screaming.

_Small, weak, and afraid. Running because she has no other choice._

Kona’s wings give one mighty flap, and she’s flying up and away before Sasuke can take a step. His eyes trail her Akatsuki robes as they disappear into the sky. If he needed any evidence that his first attempt at a Sharingan-influenced Genjutsu worked, Konan’s retreating form is proof enough.

There’s a cough from behind him, and Sasuke’s world tilts as reality comes back to him. Panic settles in, and Sasuke’s thoughts rush to the pounding of headache.

_NarutobleedingattackhelpKarinTentenAsuma--_

Sasuke whirls around to come face to face with Naruto, who is somehow miraculously standing upright.

Something isn’t right here, but Sasuke can’t quite tell what it is. Something in the air maybe? An opponent’s chakra trail gone sour, perhaps.

Glancing at Naruto’s exposed chest, tattered robes fluttering around it in the aftermath of Konan’s attack, Sasuke’s eyes widen in surprise. The marred skin and blooming cuts Sasuke expects to find simply aren’t there. Only a tan expanse of baby-soft skin, faint wisps of smoke trailing off of it. 

There’s a blood red seal scrawled across Naruto, unfamiliar and unsettling even to a Fuinjutsu dimwit like Sasuke. It doesn’t look much like Naruto’s usual work, and Sasuke can’t remember Naruto drawing anything on himself during the fight with Konan.

There’s a question on Sasuke’s lips, even as he lifts his head from Naruto’s exposed abdomen and the strong scent of malevolent chakra seeping out of it. He wonders what he could have missed, for Naruto to be in such a strange state. What Konan’s jutsu might have done while he was lost in her mind.

But Sasuke never gets the chance to ask.

Instead, he lifts his head to Naruto’s, the boy’s face no longer a bleeding mess, though still covered in a drying matte of the substance.

It seems that Sasuke must have forgotten to shut off his Sharingan, because all it takes is one look at Naruto’s slitted pupils and red-tinged irises.

One look, and Sasuke is sliding off into the depths of another mind.

\----

There’s cool, murky water up to his ankles, and a prickle at the back of his neck.

Logically, Sasuke knows what happened. He scared Konan off and went to check on Naruto, not realizing that he left his Sharingan activated. All it took was a little eye contact and here he is.

Sasuke should leave right now. It’s a huge violation of privacy to even be present in here without Naruto’s permission. If Sasuke breaks the Genjutsu right now, Naruto will forgive him. He’ll understand, knowing that Sasuke is inexperienced with using his bloodline limit. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, it would be easy to make such a mistake.

But if Sasuke stays any longer, Naruto will know that he did it intentionally.

And Sasuke is thinking about doing just that.

This place feels wrong. Sasuke has only been in two minds before this, and neither have resembled the dark caverns and inescapable humidity of Naruto’s own. Sasuke wasn’t expecting only sunshine and rainbows and puppies in Naruto’s head, but this is on the complete opposite of the spectrum. Perhaps it’s better if Sasuke sticks around to investigate the place. 

The stench of chakra wafts through the tunnel, nearly bringing Sasuke to his knees. He gags, waiting for the sensation to pass, but it sits, slow and heavy in the air. 

There’s a flicker of recognition, though, and Sasuke remembers all the times he’s felt this sensation before.

It’s the heat of Naruto’s unstable chakra, mottled red like blood splatter. The chakra that oozes through when Naruto is angry or upset and struggling to reign himself in. The chakra that was steaming off of his skin only a few minutes ago, pulsating in time with the blood seal on his stomach. 

It’s neither cool like the Hokage’s, or explosive like Kushina’s, or sure and steady and immense like Naruto’s normal chakra.

This chakra is inhuman.

Demonic.

There’s a roar down the hallway in the direction the chakra seems to be coming from. Sasuke cowers for a moment before remembering why he is here. 

He has the Sharingan, and he is in control of this situation. Whatever evil may be preying on Naruto, Sasuke can will it away. 

He plants his feet in front of him, willing the chakra scent away.

Before him, the hallway straightens out and widens, morphing into a clear path for Sasuke to follow, directly towards the deep rumbling of Naruto’s mindscape.

The path is short, Sasuke’s eyes piercing through the thick chakra and labyrinth-like structure, until finally, he comes into a wide-open chamber.

What lays before him can only be described as a jail cell, the bars thick as Sasuke’s bicep, the dull shine of iron reflecting the low-lighting of the room.

Sasuke stares, transfixed by a shifting red shape beyond the cell doors. Smoke rises off of its quivering body, the scent of that eerily inhuman chakra stronger than ever. Up close like this, Sasuke can see that the shade of red is not blood, but matted fur.

Something is very, very wrong here.

Not knowing what else to do, he calls out Naruto’s name.

Sasuke’s voice echoes around the empty chamber, filling the space with a soured note. There is no response to his call. Only the continued rumbling of the creature trapped in the cell before him.

“NARUTO!”

And again, no response, except for the shifting of the beast.

Sasuke lowers his eyes and steels himself. Whatever may be happening here, he is in control. He cannot forget that.

It takes two steps to reach the bars, and almost no effort to raise his arms to the bars of the cell.

There’s a hesitant moment of contact with the metal. It’s all the warning Sasuke gets because faster than his eyes can track, the creature is unfurling before him, back arching and head raising till it hits the ceiling. Its matted fur puffs out like a nervous cat, and the air grows thick with more smoke and chakra than Sasuke thought possible.

Eyes flooded with tears and choking down bile, Sasuke doesn’t even see the massive claws angled directly for his fluttering heart.

It’s doubtful that even Shinobi-trained and Sharingan-enhanced reflexes could save him. The claws are the size of his torso, and the force with which it swings at him blows Sasuke’s bangs back, the current of air almost knocking him off of his feet.

And just as it reaches his ribcage, it stops. Less than an inch from his shirt, the heat radiating off the beast so scorching that Sasuke feels his own skin burning in turn.

He looks up as familiar looking purple chains envelop the creature, dragging it back within its cell and digging into its skin where more steam rises up.

As the creature yowls and thrashes about, Sasuke is reminded of a distant childhood memory. 

_Itachi once took him outside the walls of Konoha into the deep, dense forest for an overnight camping trip. As they were hiking to a good rest stop, a shrill cry rose up from the underbrush, scaring crows and ravens out of the trees above them. Itachi, grim-faced and assuring, parted the leaves, Sasuke trailing behind him in fear._

_He was still young enough to believe in fairytales and boogeymen, sure that the inhuman noise was a monster come to steal him away in the night._

_But beneath the weeds and ivy is no monster. A thin wolf lays thrashing about, so skinny its rib cage was visible. It barely notices the presence of the two boys. A quick glance down at its hind leg explains away any confusion._

_Itachi gestures at the metal teeth dug into the wolf’s bloody calf._

_“A hunter must have forgotten about the trap,” he says, voice steady and analytical. “The wolf walking into it was mere accident.”_

_Sasuke glances down at the wolf’s twitching form, ensnared in the cruel machine. He sees flashes of the friendly neighborhood dogs back at the village, the kind his parents won’t let him get because canines are for Inuzukas and Hatakes, and creatures as simple as that are unfit for the Uchiha._

_“Can we help it?” Sasuke asks, fixing his big brother with wide brown eyes._

_Itachi sighs, thumbing a kunai Sasuke hadn’t seen him pull out until now._

_He points at the place where the bear trap meets flesh, and up close like this, Sasuke can see more than dirty fur and dried blood. There is a thick yellow substance around the wound._

_“Puss. A sign of a deeper infection.” Itachi turns his head towards his younger brother. “There are things we cannot save. Sometimes, death is the more merciful alternative.”_

_And before Sasuke can ask, before he can protest, Itachi darts out in a motion he’s done a thousand times before._

_His gentle hands end the wolf’s whimpering with a quick snap._

_All movement and sound ceases, save for Sasuke’s gasps._

The memory fades, and another takes its place.

_Sasuke and Naruto are fourteen, and stupid and gross the way young boys often are. They’ve snuck off to the forest for another “training mission,” which is really just an excuse for them to goof off away from the prying eyes of Konoha._

_Sakura came with them once before and has since resolved never to come again. There’s still mud stains in her nice pink blouse._

_Sasuke doesn’t mind. He’s grateful for some alone time with Naruto, who seems more and more uptight as the months pass by. Never so much as when his family is near, except for Karin. And there’s something about Naruto’s demure posture and quiet voice that pisses Sasuke off._

_A shout from Naruto clears the thought from Sasuke’s mind._

_Feet pounding on the hard-packed soil, Sasuke comes to a stop on the trail. Before him, Naruto is crouched, face obscured by messy blonde hair and tan arms wrapped around an object Sasuke can’t quite see._

_Without any explanation, Naruto thrusts the object towards Sasuke._

_It’s a brown finch, deathly still in Naruto’s hands. One of its wings is bent at an unusual angle, clearly broken and unusable._

_“We should put it out of its misery.” There’s a senbon in Sasuke’s hand, shaking underneath his fingers._

_“No,” says Naruto. “I want to heal it.”_

_Sasuke scoffs at his friend’s stupidity. “You don’t have a healing bone in your body. Who are you—Princess Kaguya?”_

_Naruto pulls the bird away from Sasuke, his body now curled around it defensively._

_“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.”_

_They end up leaving early, Naruto’s protests too loud for Sasuke to ignore. He’s annoyed at his friend, and he’s even more annoyed at the stupid baby bird that seems to have stolen Naruto’s attention away._

_A few weeks later, he finds he doesn’t mind so much when they set the bird free from one of the Hokage Tower windows. It flaps off into the sunset with a grace Sasuke envies, brown form fading into the horizon, and eventually the stars._

The second memory fades, one more bubbling to the surface.

_Sasuke is seventeen, and he is tired. He hates traveling to Suna, the hot desert winds and traveling bandits making injury almost inevitable._

_Case in point: Sasuke’s shirt is stuck to his back with sweat and blood, but at least he is better off than his felled opponent. The man, who seemed so mighty only five minutes ago with his giant axe and leather armor, looks no better than a street urchin dead in the streets of Suna._

_Sasuke turns towards the road, where he can hear the faint sounds of Sakura’s fists and Kakashi’s Chidori. He really should get back to them to help, not that they’ll need it._

_Shrugging his pack back on, Sasuke takes a step forward._

_“...wait…”_

_The voice is soft, carried only on the evening winds, but Sasuke hears it anyways. He’s always had a sense for the finer details._

_He turns back around, where the bandit is pitifully clawing up at him, all of his former killing intent a distant memory._

_“...please…”_

_Sasuke, against all reason, heads towards the man._

_He crouches by the man’s side, laying a kunai laid against the man’s throat._

_There are no words between them, only an acceptance as the man shifts his position, baring his throat and closing his eyes with a hint of a smile._

_Sasuke understands, drawing the blade quick enough to avoid most of the blood splatter._

_When it is done, he leaves. The sounds of his teammates’ distant battle are subsiding now._

_Sasuke will tell himself it was a mercy killing. That Sakura wouldn’t have been there in time to heal him, and that it wouldn’t have been worth the energy. He would have died a long and excruciating death, picked at by vultures before his heart had stopped beating._

_Still, hours after the fact, the man’s voice rings in Sasuke’s ears._

_Thank you, he had said repeatedly, struggling to get it out as he gurgled on his own blood._

In the present, the creature ceases its futile struggling. The glowing purple chains eventually subside, leaving Sasuke and the monster, a thin set of bars separating them from death and freedom respectively.

Craning his neck upwards, Sasuke takes in the sight.

Now that the chakra and smoke have subsided, the fur appears more orange than red and a bit too bright to be natural. The claws have been sheathed, and roving upwards from the legs, Sasuke sees stark black markings in the fur. Something ancient, like Sasuke’s only seen such symbols in the Konoha archives or in Uzumaki scrolls.

A great bushy tail swishes back and forth. Sasuke has no doubt that if it hit him right, it could snap his very spine in half.

Above it all is a long snout, teeth bared in an animalistic display of aggression. Even the monster’s whiskers are twitching in warning. 

But its eyes are yellow and beady. They spark with human intelligence.

The giant fox before him is neither human nor animal, a creation entirely new to Sasuke’s red-tinged eyes. It scares him more than anything.

The grumbling grows louder, water pooled around Sasuke’s ankles vibrating in resonance with the deep bass. And then the fox speaks.

_“Little Uchiha.”_

Its eyes flicker from Sasuke’s own to a distant point over his shoulder. 

_“You are trespassing.”_

Guilt twinges in the pit of Sasuke’s stomach, but he pushes it down, curiosity and confusion winning out over his questionable use of the Sharingan.

“How do you know who I am?” 

_Wrong question, idiot,_ says a voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Sakura.

He tries again. 

“Who are you? Why are you in Naruto’s head?”

There’s an awkward silence as his shaky voice fills the chamber. The fox doesn’t bother to look at him, dismissal clear in its body language.

Finally, it designs to answer.

_“I believe that humans have the saying, ‘know thine enemy.’ It would be an oversight to ignore one of Madara’s own wretched offspring.”_

Yellow eyes meet red, and Sasuke stiffens.

_“Especially when they carry a gift so powerful.”_

Sasuke tears his gaze away, guilt welling up once again.

He may be more afraid and curious than he was five minutes ago, but the fox’s words explain nothing. Sasuke decides to try once more.

“Who are you?” 

There is a slow and steady breath from the creature before him, like it’s choosing its words very carefully.

_“I am very old, and I am very powerful.”_

Sasuke can’t help but snort, more defiant than fearful at the mysterious creature.

“If you’re so powerful, Tails, how’d you end up here?

A growl tears forth from the fox’s throat, a clear warning for Sasuke’s insolent behavior.

_“My name is Kurama, boy.”_

It leans forward, hissing.

_“Do not take my bindings for granted, for all cages eventually break. When I am freed, I will lay waste to your world with a vengeance your tiny human mind cannot fathom.”_

Sasuke quirks an eyebrow at the statement. 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he replies, donning his best diplomatic voice in a poor imitation of Naruto.

Kurama snorts, shifting in his too small cage until he has his back turned to Sasuke. From this angle, Sasuke can make the details of the beast’s fluffy tail. Namely, that it’s actually nine separate wisps, all twitching independently of the others.

The observation reminds Sasuke of something, but he can’t quite put his finger on what. It scares him, how little he seems to know about this situation. How this monster, hidden deep in the recesses of Naruto’s mind, seems to have more control over this world than Sasuke’s Sharingan-guided hand. 

These are dangerous waters he’s treading.

_“My name is Kurama,”_ the beast repeats, its back still turned to Sasuke. _“But mortals know me as the nine-tails.”_

And it comes rushing back to Sasuke. 

Nine-Tails. The greatest of the Tailed Demons, who have been around since the dawn of civilization and beyond. The Tailed Demons, who had bodies made of pure chakra by Kaguya herself. 

The stuff of childhood nightmares. Sasuke remembers the stories well, whispered on cold, still nights back at the Uchiha Compound. The elders would sit by his bed and tell stories of Kurama and his brothers.

In the centuries before the Warring States period, the Demons roamed free. They delighted in destruction and chaos, tearing down any human achievement they deemed too beautiful, too powerful, too significant. And so, humans learned to keep their heads down, accepting of their subjugation at the hands of the Tailed Beasts.

_No soul can remain immortal for that long without succumbing to evil,_ Fugaku’s aunt had told Sasuke. There was a warning in her voice, a lesson in her stories that Sasuke couldn’t quite grasp.

Until one day, it stopped. The point where ancient history blended into modern. The point where Konoha and the other Hidden Villages were founded, when humans finally learned how to use their bodies to mold the energy of the earth into Chakra, just like the Tailed Beasts.

The Senju and the Uchiha and the Uzumaki joined forces, and Konoha was formed. 

Senju Hashirama and Uzumaki Mito learned to seal away the Tailed Beasts, chaining one to Mito’s very soul.

_“She was the first,”_ Kurama says, reading into Sasuke’s very thoughts and fears. He has turned himself around in his cage again, leaning so far forward towards Sasuke that his cold snout and sharp teeth rustle Sasuke’s hair.

The purple chains glow faintly around Kurama’s body, and Sasuke recognizes them now. He’s seen Karin and Kushina summon them before, the infamous bloodline limit of the Uzumaki clan. Chains that Naruto has admitted he cannot summon, due to his mixed blood on his father’s side.

But here they are, in Naruto’s head, damning enough evidence that Sasuke can barely process it.

At the sight of Sasuke’s stricken expression, the Fox chuckles, its laughter loud and sharp. 

_“I lived with her for many years, my hatred growing with each passing day. Hatred for the human who was clever enough to capture me, and powerful enough to keep me contained.”_

“And when she passed away?” Sasuke asks, voice echoing hollow in his own ears. He sounds so far away, like it's not him controlling his own body and voice anymore.

_“When Mito passed away, old wretched hag that she was,”_ Kurama snarls, _“They sealed me again. Into a spirited girl named Kushina.”_

Naruto’s mother. Clan Head of the Uzumaki, with her pretty red hair and big gray eyes. Sharp tongue and sharper senbon, but she still gave the best hugs in all of Konoha, disregarding Obito.

_“Kushina had potential,”_ Kurama laughs, teeth glinting in the dim light. _“She was ambitious. Hungry for scraps and willing to bite the hand that fed her. When I got angry, she did too.”_

Sasuke can’t imagine it. He tries, picturing Karin at age fourteen with longer hair and harder eyes, but it doesn’t look or sound like Kushina. Not when she still ruffles Obito’s hair like he’s a kid, and certainly not when she accidentally calls the Hokage “Pineapple” at team dinners.

_“I suppose war has a way of changing people.”_ Kurama rolls his yellow eyes, like one of humanity’s greatest atrocities was a mere inconvenience for him. _“And love.”_

Sasuke’s hands are shaking with barely suppressed rage. He imagines himself in Kushina’s position. Her entire homeland, her whole clan, destroyed in an act of petty warfare. He pictures golden hair and a smile as warm as the sun, and the sun setting over the red-tiled roofs of Konoha.

Being kind is not being weak, because Kushina is one of the strongest people Sasuke knows.

_I am not weak,_ his heart whispers back.

_“And so Kushina started a family.”_

There’s an uncomfortable pause as Kurama leers at Sasuke. 

_“I hate Naruto. I hate him more than Mito and Kushina combined. I hate him more than all of humanity, sometimes.”_

“Why?”

_“Because he is a coward.”_

Sasuke flinches back, the truth of the words ringing throughout the chamber. Kurama leans in further, the Uzumaki chains drawing tighter and tighter around his body as blood wells up from his tattered hide. He doesn’t seem to notice.

Sasuke wants to argue, wants to shout and scream and fight back. Kurama couldn’t be farther from the truth, because Naruto is one of the best things to happen to Sasuke in his short, shitty life. Naruto is a force for good in this cruel world, standing up for every little finch with broken wings, every backwater farmer, every street urchin from here to Whirlpool. And in turn, Sasuke will stand up for Naruto.

But not today, under the stifling gaze and hot breath of a creature more evil than Sasuke’s blood ties.

_“I can see it in your eyes, little Uchiha,”_ Kurama growls. _“You hate him just as much as me.”_

And something snaps in Sasuke.

Obito once told him that the Sharingan was ruled by instinct. 

Borne of blood and not training, the Sharingan was deadly because it could not be controlled. And such uncontrollable power leads to insanity.

At least, that’s what Sasuke has always presumed happened to people like Madara and Itachi.

As Sasuke’s own Sharingan activates, he wonders if that’s what will happen to him. 

Too much power exercised in too short a time, exhaustion compounded by insecurities and secrets. It was all too easy to tear apart the delicate paper dolls of Konan’s mind, all too easy to slip into Naruto’s clear eyes, too easy to stomp his way through the stench and confusion and winding corridors.

This is easier than all of that.

Kurama buckles under the weight of Sasuke’s gaze, bones snapping like music to Sasuke’s ears. The chains remains molded to Kurama’s body, digging in tight to his hide despite his distance from the bars of the cell.

There’s a comfortable resonance in the back of Sasuke’s head, a bit like the Sharingan if it had the texture and color of Karin and Naruto’s chakra.

Sasuke gives an experimental tug, and the chains wrap tighter in response. Hearing another bone snap, Sasuke hums in pleasant surprise.

Kurama’s raspy growl has gone animalistic. He lays still on the floor and lets out a high-pitched whine, just like the wolf caught in the bear trap all those years ago. 

Sasuke relents, releasing the chains.

He can track the chakra pathways across Kurama’s body, sees the ripples under the beast’s skin as his bones knit themselves back together. Under Sasuke’s eyelids, it blooms like fireworks.

He gasps in surprise, astounded by the deep well of chakra that dwells within the chakra. It’s like the creature is made of pure energy, as much as his physical form might say differently.

It dawns on Sasuke that this is the seal he saw pulsing on Naruto’s stomach only a few minutes ago in the real world. An intimate connection to the beast within. Kurama’s power, that healed Naruto’s body seconds after ripping it apart, tainting his chakra with malevolent red energy.

He wonders how he could have missed it before this.

Behind the bars, Kurama trembles with unbridled rage.

_“Little Uchiha,”_ he gasps out, half-pain and half-anger, _“you will regret this.”_

“Maybe,” Sasuke replies, tone holding steady. “But that’s only if you ever manage to break free.”

Kurama’s yellow eyes narrow.

Sasuke smiles, slow and cruel. 

“Good thing I’m here to make sure that never happens.”

He lets the Sharingan loose, pressing down on the well of Kurama’s chakra like a smothering fire blanket.

Kurama rears his head back, howling as the very essence of his being is boxed in. Smoke fills the room, obscuring his bloody fur and sharp claws.

The last thing Sasuke sees before he releases the Genjutsu is Kurama’s towering form, trapped behind iron rod bars and clad in chakra chains. As the smoke clears, Sasuke can make out a ring of black fire around the demon’s body—his own personal touch on Naruto’s prison-mind.

\----

He wakes up to the scent of smoke and grass, marking this as the site of their skirmish. There are no traces of demonic chakra to be found, and Sasuke breathes a sigh of relief, content that his plan worked.

Naruto is standing before him, eyes clear and body perfectly healed. He looks just as stunned as Sasuke.

Sasuke doesn’t even see the punch coming until it lands with a mighty crack across his face.

He squints through blood, and comes face to face with Naruto, angrier than he’s ever seen him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for the incredibly late update. Life hits you hard sometimes. I'm hoping I'll be back soon with the next chapter!


	5. Things Fall Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for minor character death and lots of angst and sadness. Things have to get worse before they get better.

“—whatever bullshit reasons! I don’t care,” Naruto spits out, eyes narrowed to two thin slits of blue. Sasuke almost wishes they were still demon-tainted red, that there was some other explanation for Naruto’s anger and vitriol.

But it’s simply not the case.

Sasuke glares right back, his cheeks and nose still tingling where Naruto struck him. 

“Disregarding the fact that you’ve been keeping a huge, life changing secret from _all of Konoha,_ ” Sasuke says pointedly, “now is not the time for arguing.”

Naruto’s mouth thins out, corners pressing flat in a clear sign of displeasure. Still, he refrains from interrupting. Sasuke takes it as a sign to keep on talking.

“There were two Akatsuki members. We might have taken care of Konan, but Asuma and Karin and Tenten could still be fighting of the other guy. Every second we spend bickering is a second more they might be in danger.”

Sasuke’s voice quavers, despite his best efforts. He can’t entertain the thought of something happening to any of their teammates. Not when Sasuke knows that he could have saved them.

Something in Naruto’s face softens, and he exhales loudly.

“Fine,” he says. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

Sasuke can’t help but agree.

\----

The walk through the underbrush and back up the road tells a story of its own.

Kunai and senbon scatter the ground like fallen leaves at the peak of autumn. They’re lined with red, but Sasuke’s not sure if that’s a good or bad sign.

He can imagine Karin’s delicate hands sliding out from underneath her long sleeves, senbon flying out with deadly accuracy. Missing was never a problem when it came to Karin—not when she had chakra chains to hold her targets still.

There are far too many kunai lying about for them to have come from one Shinobi, let alone four. Tenten must have activated her weapons-summoning seal quite early on.

It makes Sasuke uneasy, knowing that she had to resort such a powerful jutsu so quickly.

He and Naruto are quick as they make their way through the forest, but Sasuke can’t help but perceive the details of a battle gone south.

Bits of ember in fiery rings around scorched earth, places Karin must have set up Fuinjutsu traps that never triggered. The arc-shaped scrape on the ground that must have come from a sword like Kusanagi. Foliage sliced cleany through, the air still smelling like the wind chakra and metal of Asuma’s trench knives.

More abundant than any of these markers is the fallen trees. Many as wide as two feet across, holes punched clean through the trunk. Lining every puncture hole, every fissure, every stump is the same sticky, black substance. Sasuke thinks of Kakuzu’s tar-like appendages and fears the worst.

It takes them almost no time at all to get back to the road, but in the tense silence, it feels like an eternity.

Three figures are clustered down the road. Karin’s hair glows like a beacon beside Tenten’s grey-brown buns. They are both crouched with their backs to Sasuke and Naruto, but another person lays between them.

Asuma’s figure, unmoving and flat on the dirt road. He looks so small from here, all traces of strength and bravado gone.

Wordlessly, Sasuke and Naruto break into a sprint.

Karin and Tenten don’t acknowledge them. Asuma doesn’t so much as twitch.

‘What happened?” Naruto finally manages, his eyes never tearing away from Asuma’s prone form.

A sob wrenches itself from Karin’s throat, ugly and gasping. Her glasses fog with tears and her face grows red as her hair.

Sasuke keeps his eyes on her. He doesn’t dare look at Asuma.

Finally, Karin catches her breath.

“I couldn’t save him.”

\----

Karin and Naruto dress the body for transport, and Tenten pulls Sasuke aside.

She’s leaning against her sword, posture uncharacteristically slumped. Her bangs are plastered to her forehead with sweat, the shallow cut on her cheek drawing Sasuke’s eyes up. Red on pale skin, exhaustion in every bone of her body. 

Sasuke’s not sure he looks much better.

“It was overwhelming,” Tenten starts. “You saw the black tendrils shooting out of his body before the woman separated us.”

Sasuke nods. Obito referred to Kakuzu as a flesh-stealer, capable of turning the hearts of men against their bodies. He may not know the specifics, but with a jutsu as powerful as that, plenty of dark practices are possible.

Tenten continues. 

“We tried our best to hold him off, but it was like fighting ten Jounin at once. He was everywhere and nowhere.”

A beat of silence and a shaky sigh.

“He split us up. I couldn’t even think, I was so focused on trying to survive. By the time I regrouped with Karin, it was too late.”

She grips the sword tight, trying to still her trembling hands. 

“Kakuzu ripped Asuma’s heart out of his chest, Sasuke. He was already dead by the time we got there.”

Sasuke isn’t sure what to say, so he doesn’t say anything at all. He can only hope his presence is enough.

After a few moments of conspicuous sniffling, Tenten speaks again.

“What happened to you guys?”

Sasuke mouth goes dry. He thinks of demonic eyes and malevolent chakra and the longest-kept secret in Konoha. Fighting Konan seems insignificant in comparison.

“Konan split us up, too,” he finally says. “If I was a few seconds later, if I couldn’t have activated the Sharingan in time, Naruto probably would’ve died.”

_One more hit and he would have burned all her paper dolls to ash,_ Sasuke thinks. 

_He would have ripped her jugular out with his teeth. Kurama would be more than happy to lend his chakra for that bloodshed._

Sasuke’s fist clench, and he tries to push the thought down.

Still, he can’t help but wonder. If Naruto gave in to the demon—if he was willing to harness that power—could they have saved Asuma in time? 

“That seems to be Akatsuki’s main strategy,” Tenten muses, startling Sasuke out of his thoughts.

“They sow the seeds of doubt and division. And then they pick us off one-by-one.”

The type of tactic Sasuke would admire, if it wasn’t Akatsuki carrying it out. If he didn’t get the feeling like Itachi counseled them in this. 

Tenten, still clutching her sword, flicks her eyes back to Karin and Naruto, then back to Sasuke. Her voice is barely a whisper when she speaks.

“Don’t tell Karin or Naruto,” she starts, “But I get the feeling that Akatsuki was looking for something very specific.”

Sasuke thinks of their bold declarations about the Tailed Beasts, how they drift closer and closer to Suna and threaten the very Kazekage. How they have an unspoken power over Amegakure, ever since Orochimaru’s decapitated head showed up on Konoha’s doorstep.

Tenten is a smart woman. She knows her history and politics. She’d pay attention to something like the Uzumaki’s shrouded past. A figure like Uzumaki Mito isn’t easily forgotten, not when she became the very first Jinchuuriki and helped rid the world of the Tailed Beasts.

And when someone as high profile as Kushina shows up in your town, it's only natural to make assumptions about her—especially concerning the things she may or may not have inherited from Mito.

“We didn’t win this fight,” Tenten continues. “Kakuzu and Konan left of their own free will.”

Sasuke wants to argue that his Genjutsu did most of the work, but he holds his tongue.

“They left because they didn’t find what they were looking for.”

_Or_ , Sasuke thinks, _the thing they were looking for was right under their noses the entire time._

\----

They reach Konoha by nightfall, their pace slowed by battle exhaustion. Asuma’s death weighs on them all, both mentally and physically.

His body has been covered in one of Naruto’s spare robes, tied down to a stretcher made of branches and rope. They stand at each end like pallbearers, and even divided among four Jounin-level Shinobi, Sasuke is stunned by the weight.

Asuma is—was, Sasuke corrects with an inward flinch—a large man in body and spirit. Well over six feet tall, he had muscle mass and a sturdy heft to him where Shinobi like Kakashi are lean and lanky. He was loud and crass and could out-smoke a dragon if given the chance.

He did not know the man very well, but he still admired him from afar. There was the way he stepped up after Orochimaru's attack and the Sandaime’s death, a natural born leader for the scared civilians despite his own personal loss. The way Team Ten grew under his tutelage, which Sasuke was often envious of—how Choji became confident and Ino became strong and Shikamaru became kind. How they all seemed so fond of Asuma-sensei, to the point of following him around like puppies, well into teenagehood.

Of course, Sasuke was guilty of doing the same thing with Kakashi, but that was different. Kakashi was more like a guardian than a teacher, which suited Sasuke perfectly with his long and fucked-up family history.

Sasuke glances back at Asuma’s shroud. The fabric, tailored to fit Naruto’s small frame, doesn’t quite cover up Asuma. From this angle, Sasuke can see his hand poking out underneath the warm reds and golden thread of the fabric. His fingers are curled, stiff and cold, cupped around a knife that is no longer there. There’s chalky brown under caked under his nails, and Sasuke realizes with a belated horror that it’s dried blood and not dirt or rust. 

He swallows, wondering whether it’s Asuma’s own or Kakuzu’s. If he went down fighting, the way any proper Shinobi should.

Sasuke thinks of Asuma’s fingers, cupped tight around a glass, a teasing smile tucked behind amber alcohol. His encouraging words to Sasuke, only a few days ago.

His own life story, starting in Konoha, and ending just fifteen miles from the tall gates. His remaining family who survives him, like that damn Sarutobi kid who’s always pestering Naruto.

Kurenai-sensei, Sasuke remembers. And a daughter, not yet old enough to attend the Shinobi Academy.

They come to an abrupt halt, Konoha looming ahead like a dark specter. The guards at the gates rush forward, bodies ready for a fight and faces full of unasked questions.

Sasuke wipes tears from his eyes and steels his shoulders for the oncoming shitstorm. Tenten, Karin, and Naruto follow suit.

\----

Karin, surprisingly, is the one who volunteers to go to the Hokage’s office for debriefing. Sasuke, covered in mud and a thousand scabbing paper cuts, wonders how she can be so steady. How she can shrug off an ambush from Akatsuki and a teammate’s death like it’s nothing.

But when she walks past him, limping slightly to her left and wheezing softly and red eyes firmly set on the horizon, all of Sasuke’s confusion disappears. There’s an unshakable core to Karin. One borne from years of grief and strife. 

It’s easy for Sasuke to forget the Uzumaki’s long and tragic history. They hide their background as refugees, as survivors of a modern genocide. They disguise it with beautiful clothes and fancy seals, with village-wide gossip and a global diplomatic presence.

And here Karin is, devoid of her royal persona and practiced ego. When it comes down to it, she is just a woman. A Shinobi like any other.

Sasuke thinks of Naruto, and wonders. All the secrets he bottles up, down to the very contents of his soul.

He’d always thought that Naruto’s polite and professional attitude was an act, reserved for business contacts and Clan Elders. The rowdy boy underneath, who never failed to make Sasuke keel over in laughter, was the real deal. A perfect angel until he deigned to open his mouth.

Now, he questions if that’s the case. How can he know who Naruto really is, when he keeps such huge secrets from him? How can he know the person he’s fallen in love with is real, when Naruto sheds identities like autumn leaves?

\----

Late that night, long past the point that Obito has gone to bed and Karin has finished her debrief, Sasuke lies in bed awake.

Kurama’s voice is whispering in his ears, and Sasuke can barely believe that all of this has transpired in the past day.

He knows that Genjutsu has a way of screwing with time, but that’s something that should only affect the target, not the user.

For all that Sasuke’s brain might tell him otherwise, he wasn’t in control of the situation in Naruto’s head. He doubts Naruto is either.

There’s a loud crack from behind Sasuke’s head, and he jumps out of bed with a hand on Kusanagi before he can think about it.

Gentle moonlight drifts in from the window, casting dark shadows across Sasuke’s bedroom. Still, he doesn’t see evidence of any intruders.

Just as he’s about to settle back down into bed, the sound repeats.

Sasuke wrenches himself around, sure that the noise came from the window.

He grips the window sill, throwing up the glass. Blinded by white light against the night sky, he doesn’t see the projectile until it’s too late.

A small pebble smacks him center in the forehead, and Sasuke grunts, more in surprise than pain. He peers out the window, looking for his mysterious assailant.

Standing on the street in gaudy orange pajamas is Naruto, arm outstretched and a guilty smile on his face.

“Nice aim, Goldilocks,” Sasuke whisper-yells out the window. “What are you doing here?”

Naruto rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“I can’t sleep. Can you come down and talk?”

Sasuke sighs. Turning his back towards the window, he retrieves a pair of sandals.

“Sasuke, wait!” He can hear Naruto calling loudly, his tone getting whiny the way it does when he loses a spar or wants to eat ramen.

Sasuke pokes his head back out the window in annoyance, sandals now strapped onto his feet.

“If you don’t take a step back, I’m going to assume you won't mind cushioning my fall.”

Naruto’s eyes widen in understanding. He steps back in silence.

Sasuke, half perched outside the window, levels one last forlorn look at his bed.

He jumps.

\----

Sasuke rubs his arms together in an attempt to flatten goosebumps, regretful that he forgot to bring a jacket with him.

To be fair, he didn’t know that Naruto was going to drag him on a hike deep into the woods around Mito’s property at this ungodly hour in the morning.

He kicked up a fuss at first, but Naruto shut him up with a sharp glare and a tug on his ear.

To say that there are prying eyes and ears all over Konoha is an understatement. Sasuke resigned himself to following Naruto’s lead, again.

Now they sit here, in the middle of the wilderness, the small pond by their feet illuminated by the moon above. Its surface is undisturbed, no bugs or fish or toads in sight.

“I think I’m ready to forgive you,” Naruto announces, disturbing the tentative peace.

Sasuke stares, mouth agape.

“You what?”

“I forgive you. We can move past this whole incident like it never happened.”

“No!” 

“What?”

Sasuke takes a deep breath and unclenches his fists.

“No.”

If he’s calming himself down, Naruto is the opposite. 

“What do you mean no?” His exclamation is loud and shrill, a tone of voice Naruto hasn’t used since childhood.

“I don’t think there’s anything for you to forgive. And I don’t think we can put this whole Jinchuuriki thing behind us just yet.”

Naruto’s face twists, an uncharacteristic frown pulling at his scarred cheeks. The hair on the back of Sasuke’s arms raises, but he knows it's not from the cold.

“You used the Sharingan on me!” 

A second later, and quieter.

“You violated my privacy—you invaded my mind, and you won’t even apologize?”

There’s desperation in his voice, like he still believes this whole situation is some fucked up dream, like the Sasuke he sees before him is a part of another illusion, some poorly concocted ploy by enemy Shinobi. So deeply in denial that he’d rather this be Genjutsu than reality.

Sasuke has never wanted to slap that hopeful expression off his boyfriend’s face more than he does now. He doesn’t know how else to respond to the cramping hurt in his chest.

“What was I supposed to do, Naruto? We were on the battlefield, and you were bleeding out with freaky red chakra pouring off of you in waves. What was I supposed to think?”

He keeps his voice monotone. If he resorts to hysterics or temper-tantrums, Naruto will gain the upper hand. 

“You could have left,” Naruto replies, voice stony-cold. “You could have left my head the second you realized I was okay.”

“What part of having an ancient demon chained to your soul is okay?”

Sasuke’s voice is too loud, even to his own ears. How can he help it, when he sees the Nine-Tails’ beady yellow eyes every time he closes his?

“This isn’t about the Nine-Tails! You refuse to apologi—”

“It is about Kurama,” Sasuke cuts in. “It’s about the fact that you’ve been keeping a secret from me, from our teammates, from our friends.”

Naruto grinds his teeth, fisting clumps of grass around his feet in pent-up frustration. 

“I don’t share that information because it would endanger everyone here. Look at what’s happening to Gaara and Suna!”

“Guess what, Naruto? You’ve already endangered us plenty! Maybe, if you’d told us beforehand, we could have been prepared for the possibility of an Akatsuki ambush!”

Naruto’s jaw has dropped open, but Sasuke presses onwards. He thinks of Naruto’s skin mending cuts like they never existed, thinks of the staggering amount of chakra the Nine-Tails had, and how easily Naruto channeled it once he grew desperate.

He thinks of a shroud, and a fatherless child, not even old enough to attend the Shinobi academy.

“If we’d had access to your abilities as a Jinchuuriki, if we were ready for an attack, maybe Asuma wouldn’t have died!”

As soon as he says it, he regrets it.

It’s too late. The words are out of his mouth, and Naruto is backing off, retreating back into his shell. He’s got that same damn body language, that same fucking face that haunts Sasuke from childhood. Forbidden Sexy Jutsus and meetings with the Hokage behind closed doors and stuffy galas with the rest of Konoha’s elite.

“I didn’t mean that,” Sasuke amends.

“I know.”

Sasuke doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do, when Naruto gets like this. 

He doesn't dare look at the other boy, barely even breathes. Instead, he focuses on the serene pond, the way its still surface mirrors the sky above like a picture-perfect photograph.

He’s startled out of his staring contest by a ripple across the surface of the pond.

Beside him, Naruto reaches back to chuck another pebble into the pond. The ripples distort the image of the moon, smearing it into something ugly and unrecognizable.

“Word travels quickly in Konoha,” Naruto announces over the chirps of distant crickets. “Can you imagine how people would treat me, if they knew there was a demon inside my very soul? If they knew I was one of the people Akatsuki is targeting?”

Sasuke has been on the wrong end of a nasty rumor. He’s learned to keep his back turned when the whispers and the staring starts. He’d always assumed Naruto learned how to do the same.

“What difference does it make? The Kazekage is beloved by his people, and he isn’t nearly as likeable as you. A true friend won’t care about this baggage.”

_I love you more than I fear Kurama and Akatsuki,_ Sasuke thinks to himself. It isn’t what Naruto needs to hear right now, and it's not what he wants to say, so he doesn’t bother to voice the thought.

Naruto rolls his eyes. “It’s different with Gaara. His people respect him, but they’re not friends. And his siblings kinda have to love him.”

He tilts his head, ruminating over some thought Sasuke can’t predict.

“That’s just how family works,” he continues after a beat. “Because you’re related, you’re stuck with them.”

Sasuke frowns. There’s something off about Naruto’s words. Subtext he’s not understanding, an idea that just isn’t translating.

“Do you think you’re stuck with me and Sakura and Kakashi?”

Naruto’s face twists in confusion, and his next words are sharp and defensive.

“No. I’m talking about the Uzumakis and my dad. They have to love me because I’m family. They have to put up with my baggage and my identity, because it’s their baggage too.”

Naruto doesn’t say _I don’t consider you to be my family._ He doesn’t have to, because Sasuke can understand him loud and clear. He thinks about Naruto’s quiet attitude around his family, the way he hides his social circle away from them, like he’s embarrassed or ashamed.

Naruto, 18 years old with a burgeoning career in worldwide diplomacy, who still can’t stand up to a bunch of elderly and bigoted civilians.

The very thought makes Sasuke’s vision go white with anger.

Sasuke hears an echo of a deep growl in the back of his head. Something the Kurama said about Naruto, that’s been bugging him since the moment the damn beast opened its mouth. He denounced it, called it lies and slander and mind games, but now, given the clarity of truth and time, Sasuke understands.

“You’re a coward.”

He missed it so easily before, with his judgement shaded by rose-tinted glasses.

Naruto doesn’t respond. Sasuke thinks that he can hear the whisperings of Kurama, too.

“You’re a coward and a hypocrite, and I don’t know why it's taken me so long to realize that.””

Naruto’s face pinches tight like he’s eaten something sour. He breathes unsteadily—once, twice, and finally, he explodes.

“You don’t get to call me that! Not when you learned about the Nine Tails less than twenty-four hours ago, and certainly not because you invaded my privacy and got your claws inside my head!”

He’s breathless now, clutching at grass he ripped up from the ground. If they were any younger, Sasuke suspects they would break out into a fist fight right about now.

“I saw enough,” Sasuke insists. He saw the creature that haunts Naruto’s dreams and thoughts, that threatens Konoha with its very existence, that Naruto hid away with white lies and distractions and guilt-trips.

It was clever and threatening, but Sasuke pried truth from its lips anyways. He made it tremble in pain and fear from his untrained Sharingan alone.

It’s far from the worst demon Sasuke’s seen.

“You hid it away because you’re a coward. Because you’re so self-absorbed with everyone’s perspective of you. You couldn’t bear for anyone to know that you’re just as fucked up as the rest of us.”

“I hid because I had no other choice!”

The birds scatter from the trees at Naruto’s screaming, but that doesn’t stop him.

“My family didn’t want me!”

And Sasuke knows about the orphanage and the town just thirty miles from here, where Naruto spent the first part of his life as an outcast, but this isn’t right. Kushina has a hug like a mama bear and the Hokage will make dad jokes to anything with two legs and a brain between their ears. Even Karin is sisterly, in that stilted, aggressive way.

“Don’t you dare sit there and complain about your family,” Sasuke warns. “Not in front of me.”

Naruto laughs, cruel and sharp. 

“You should thank the gods your clan is gone, Sasuke. People like me, like Hinata and Neji? We spend every day of our lives worrying about the approval of our elders, if we’re living up to their rules and their legacy and their expectations. I’m only tolerated as long as I’m useful.”

Sasuke flinches back in disbelief. Never has Naruto used words against him like this, openly mocking Sasuke’s misfortunes. All traces of his relentless optimism, which Sasuke admired him for, are gone.

He sounds like those retired and drunken Jounin that hang out in the bars near his and Obito’s apartment.

_You’re nothing more than a tool_ , they like to warn through vomit-tinged breath and slurred consonants. _A killing machine. Easily replaced and easily discarded._

There’s blood pounding in Sasuke’s ears. 

“Shut the fuck up!” 

Naruto doesn’t back off, blue eyes growing cruel and steely in the night.

“This village didn’t give a shit about me until I proved I could talk Konoha out of wars. My clan didn’t give a shit about me, not until I could learn to sit still and be quiet and obey, like a good Shinobi. What about you, Sasuke? Are you really that mad, just because I kept a secret?”

He tilts his head, staring at something beyond Sasuke’s shoulder. 

“Admit it _Uchiha,_ ” he growls, cold and impersonal. “You’re just mad because I stopped playing the part of the sweet and perfect little boyfriend.”

There’s a loud _smack._

Sasuke blinks.

He stares at his own hand, stretched out in front. Naruto is turned away, his cheek already turning red from where Sasuke hit him.

Sasuke thinks of the wolf, trapped and lashing out in fear. Or better yet, Kurama and his sharpened claws and glittering teeth, stuck within an eternal cage. 

Even now, Naruto is afraid. He hides his insecurities well, behind pointed words and insidious accusations, but Sasuke has good vision. The cloth has been pulled from Sasuke’s eyes, and for the first time in forever, he can see all of Naruto laid bare.

He doesn’t bother to scream or shout or hit back. He’s too tired.

Too disappointed.

“Even now, you’re afraid. Afraid of your family, afraid of Kurama, afraid of yourself.”

Naruto’s bitter smile melts into confusion and apprehension.

Sasuke continues, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to see Naruto’s hurt expression. 

“You hide it well. All false bravado and clever words, especially around people like me. You think you can escape your fears by impressing others.”

There were so many warning signs.

The restaurant. Ordering in another language, talking to the locals, all while Sasuke grew more and more uncomfortable.

Naruto’s put-upon obliviousness. All those years spent ignoring Sasuke’s crush, just because he liked the attention.

Even that firework seal, given as a gift when they first met. 

“I was so excited for the day you came to town,” he admits, voice catching and tears welling up in his eyes. “I thought that I could get my happy ending, by marrying into a powerful clan like the Uzumakis.”

Naruto’s eyes bug out in surprise. 

“And I met you. I thought you were weird and confusing. Meek and flat one second, boisterous and charismatic the second.”

He huffs to himself—picks up a rock, and chucks it into the pond. He imagines the entry point as the moment he and Naruto met. Every ripple is an interaction, an inside joke, a spar-turned-wrestling match. This conversation must be the moment the ripples reach the bank, crashing against sand and dirt, leaving unsteady, sloping sediment behind.

“I should have realized it was all manufactured. You’re practically trained in shedding personas. I just--”

Naruto’s breath catches, like he’s going to sob.

He heaves a shaky breath and tries again.

“I just thought that you wouldn’t try to lie to me.”

They both sit in silence, punctuated only by heavy breathing and poorly-hidden sobs.

“You know, Naruto,” Sasuke starts again, once he’s collected himself, “Maybe you should try being a bit more honest. People might just like you the way you actually are.”

He tries to imagine that.

A world where Naruto doesn’t give a fuck about his family’s disapproving glares. A world where he’s not burdened by expectations and lies and inner demons beyond Sasuke’s influence. A world where he’s...himself.

But Sasuke’s mind draws a blank.

He motions to get up.

A hand clamps down on Sasuke’s own, keeping him in place for just a second longer.

“I didn’t ask you to put me on a pedestal,” Naruto cries out. He’s facing Sasuke fully now, teary blue eyes and a red, swollen face highlighted only by tear tracks down his cheeks. 

He’s ugly when he cries.

“I didn’t ask for your expectations, or your trust. I didn’t sign up to be your Mr. Perfect, consolation prize, your fairytale ending for the crappy life you’ve lived.”

Sasuke angles himself towards Naruto, meeting him eye-to-eye.

“You’re right” he concedes. He gently removes Naruto’s hand, standing and brushing grass damp with morning dew from his pajama pants. 

“That was all me,” he admits. He turns his back, away from the now-still pond and the torn grass and Naruto's crumpled grass. He pauses, hesitation keeping his feet glued in place.

“Are we done here?”

“Yeah,” he hears Naruto whisper. “We’re done.”

And just like that, Sasuke walks away.

He doesn’t stop. Not to cry and not to scream and not to get drunk.

By the time he reaches his apartment, the sun is just coming up along the horizon.

It’s the ugliest sight Sasuke’s ever seen, and the moment he gets back into bed, he draws his window shades closed to block it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update and short chapter. I'm trying to balance this with school work and job applications and ten thousand other creative projects, so sometimes things get left behind. The good news is that the story is about halfway done! At least, according to my outline it is...I tend to get carried away with filling in scenes and background characterization :/ 
> 
> Hopefully I'll see ya next week!


	6. A Contemplative Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for mild body horror

Life goes on for Sasuke.

He spends the next few weeks after the disastrous mission in a fugue state, living out each day in a haze of anger and regret.

He doesn’t sleep at night, the visible bags under his eyes concerning Sakura the one time she stops by to mother-hen him. All of her suggestions are shrugged off with wordless grunts. When Sakura finally leaves in a huff of frustration, Sasuke doesn’t care. He barely even notices her in the first place.

Obito drags him out of bed every day, cooking increasingly ornate and decadent breakfasts in an attempt to pull Sasuke out of his depression. The eggs taste like rubber in Sasuke’s mouth, but he tries, just to make that desperate expression on Obito’s face go away.

Exactly one week after their return to Konoha, a funeral is held for Asuma.

It’s not rainy, or even cloudy outside, thank goodness. 

The harsh sunlight makes Sasuke’s skin bead with nervous sweat, garbed in heavy black cloth and surrounded by the crowds as he is.

It seems that Asuma was a popular man, judging by the sheer amount of people that are in attendance. Sasuke supposes it makes sense. The Jounin was famed across Fire Country, as the son of the Sandaime and a strong warrior in his own right.

Sasuke can spot quite a few familiar faces in the crowd—Ino and Shikamaru and Choji at the front, their faces torn with grief. Tsunade and the Hokage, regal and stoic as they deliver the last rites for one of the village's finest Shinobi.

Obito and Kakashi have waded their way through the throng of people, and engaged in tearful conversation with a few other Jounin, Gai and Kurenai among them. Sasuke remembers that Kakashi and Obito were close in age to Asuma. They must have trained together in their youth, advanced through the Shinobi ranks as a group. 

Sasuke thinks of himself and Sakura, and how close knit they are to the other newly-minted Jounin of their age. He can’t imagine how it feels to lose a friend like this. A childhood constant, gone in a flash. 

All of Sasuke’s grief is scabbed over and dried with time, his family no more than a distant memory. 

As the years go on, as his friends take more missions and as they all grow older, they will lose people. The only question is whether Sasuke can survive any more loss than he already has.

He shifts uncomfortably, shaking the thought off like clinging raindrops. 

He lets his eyes scan over the crowd once again, a nervous tick more than anything purposeful.

Sasuke can spot the Uzumaki contingent even from here. They stand out like jewels among the dirt, their red hair reflecting the sunlight in a way the mousy browns and blacks of Northern-born Konoha hair simply doesn’t. 

He tears his eyes away before he can spot gold among the red.

\----

“I want to learn Genjutsu,” he announces abruptly, through a mouth of plain toast.

Obito stares up at him, gawking. The coffee in his hands is fogging up his reading glasses, but Obito doesn’t seem to notice. He’s probably too hungover from the night before, when he and Kakashi and the rest of Asuma’s former classmates went pub-crawling as an ode to their dearly departed friend.

Kakashi is probably still fast asleep in bed, but Sasuke doesn’t want to know the details of that.

“Properly,” he clarifies, like it will make Obito stop staring at him.

Obito shakes his head, setting his coffee down to direct his full attention towards Sasuke.

“Why the sudden interest? I haven’t seen you this eager to learn about the Sharingan since you were thirteen years old.”

Sasuke looks away, scared that Obito will see or know too much if he looks him dead-on.

“We were on that mission, and I used Genjutsu on Konan,” he explains. 

_And Naruto,_ he thinks, not that he’ll admit it out loud.

Obito nods along. He’s been following the Akatsuki far longer than anyone knew about them, and to add to that, Sasuke is his charge. He’ll know the details of Sasuke’s mission, even if Sasuke hasn’t yet talked about it.

“I wasn’t as prepared what I wanted to be. If something had gone wrong, a teammate could’ve been killed.”

Obito blinks once in silent judgement.

“Another teammate,” Sasuke amends.

Obito takes a long sip on coffee, leaving Sasuke to shift uncomfortably in his seat.

Finally, he places the mug down on the table.

Sasuke can’t help but lean forward, eager for some-sort of reaction from his usually-goofy guardian.

“Fine. We start training today.”

\----

Sasuke wills another wave of black flame into existence, sending it forward with a wave of ferocity. 

Vision clouded by smoke and embers, Sasuke takes a moment to rest. He’s been at this for what feels like an eternity, the pounding of his head and the sweat beading at his brow evidence enough of his hard work.

He stops to wonder what he must look like in the real world right about now—is he still sitting up? Is his body taut with tension? Are his eyes bleeding red with overexertion?

_Obito will know when to call it quits,_ Sasuke thinks. _He’s experienced with Sharingan training._

Unfortunately, the comforting thought distracts Sasuke from his objective, and by the time he sees the oncoming vines, it's too late to summon up more fire.

They tear through his fiery vortex with an intelligent viciousness and move almost too fast for Sasuke’s enhanced eyes.

In the time it takes to inhale, the deep green vines are winding around his arms and legs and torso, pinning him in place so he cannot resist physically.

Sasuke opens his mouth, to yell and scream and curse, but before he can do any of that, there are leaves poking down the back of his throat.

He writhes in pain, but nothing stops the advancing tide of the plants. 

_It’s all in your head,_ Sasuke assures himself, but knowing doesn’t help.

The plants are worming tighter and tighter around his arms, cutting off circulation and cutting into his skin. He can feel them wriggling closer, burrowing under his skin and spreading out.

There is a battle of wills between him and the plants that lasts for what feels like an eternity. Sasuke would grind his teeth and clench his eyes, but the plants have wrenched open his mouth. His vision is white with pain as the vines puncture skin and push out his own flesh and bone in their way.

_Ohgodithurtspleasemakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitst—_

Sasuke tumbles out of Obito’s mind with a start.

“What the hell was that?” 

He’s panting with exertion, practically slumped over with the mental exhaustion. Even here, on Training Ground 18 in the real world, he can still feel the phantom pain of petals blooming beneath his skin.

In front of him, Obito cracks open an eye.

“Training,” he replies simply, like he didn’t just put Sasuke through one of the most painful things he’s experienced in his Shinobi career.

“It wasn’t very helpful,” Sasuke grumbles. They’ve been out here for a few hours, and all Sasuke’s learned is that Obito can still kick the crap out of him. “What’s the point of using your Sharingan against mine? When I was in Konan’s head, it more than easy enough to find my way around and tear shit up.”

Obito’s gentle smile flattens into something more serious.

“And what if Konan knew you were going to use the Sharingan on her? What if you ran into someone who was better at Genjutsu than you?”

Sasuke snorts.

“No one is better at Genjutsu than me, besides you and Kakashi, because no one else has the Sharin—”

He cuts off, because that’s not exactly true. As far as anyone knows, his brother is still out there. 

Itachi’s spinning red eyes flash in Sasuke’s mind, and butterflies rumble in his stomach. 

Is Obito expecting an attack from Itachi? Is that why he’s so insistent on such intense training?

If Obito can sense Sasuke’s sudden trepidation—and Sasuke is certain he can—he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“I want you to know what it feels like to have your own mind turned against you.”

Obito locks eyes with Sasuke before he can try to change the subject or walk away.

“Imagine those vines.”

Sasuke reluctantly does so, leaning back and closing his eyes.

“Think of how they crept under your skin, slowly and steadily.”

Sasuke scratches his arm, feeling the phantom movement of leaves pulsing through his veins.

“Think of how they never stopped, even against all your protests. Remember the dread you felt, the pain when an unnatural force invaded your own body and turned it against you.”

He recalls his muscles tensing up first, his feet freezing underneath him as the vines wove closer and closer around his limbs. His mouth, open in a silent scream as the plants crept deeper and deeper down his throat, wrenching his jaws open in the process for more plants to invade his body.

Sasuke clenches his fists tight enough to draw blood.

There’s a quick motion, and Obito’s hands are on his own, gently prying them open. Sasuke lets him, relaxing at Obito’s touch.

“Always remember this when you use the Sharingan on someone, Sasuke,” he cautions. His eyes are pools of solemn black, and his grip is steady. “As easy as it may seem to tear apart their mind, that sort of violation will never be painless.”

Sasuke can picture Konan’s mind. He shredded the origami birds of her memories with ease, like they were little more than tissue paper dreams.

But it was different with Konan. She was a cold-blooded killer and would have ripped Sasuke to pieces if he hadn’t acted first.

And that would be the end of the story, a one-hundred percent guilt-free ending.

Except Sasuke had used the Sharingan on someone else.

Naruto called it a violation, not that Sasuke had listened at the time. 

He was too angry and confused to listen. Now all he can do is ruminate over Naruto’s parting exchange and wonder if he was truly in the wrong.

If, maybe, his stomping through the labyrinth of Naruto’s mind hurt. Did Naruto shiver at Sasuke’s Genjutsu? Did he cry or scream?

And when Sasuke summoned those black flames to seal away Kurama, he was so confident it was the right thing to do. He never spared a thought to the idea that Kurama’s and Naruto’s souls might be intertwined, their pain and emotions shared through some ancient link. 

From what Naruto had said, it seemed like the Uzumaki chains of his mind existed in the real world too. 

What about Sasuke’s Genjutsu?

Sasuke chokes on the guilt, seeing Naruto’s tear-stained, ugly face in his mind. Naruto was always good at hiding things—maybe he hid the pain of Sasuke’s Genjutsu, too.

If that’s the case, then Sasuke’s heartbreak is karma.

There’s a warm hand rubbing at Sasuke’s back, soothing his shaking form.

He squints through watery eyes at Obito’s kind smile. When Obito pulls him into a tight-hug, Sasuke doesn’t protest.

“Let’s take a break,” Obito offers. “It’s been a hard couple of weeks for you.”

Sasuke doesn’t even try to protest. If Obito has taught him anything over the years, it’s that a good cry will always clear the mind.

\----

Sasuke approaches Training Ground 4 with a hint of apprehension. He can’t quite see the clearing from the road, but he can certainly hear the ongoing spar. 

There’s the loud rumble of a tree falling, and what feels like a minor earthquake rattles the ground at Sasuke’s feet, traveling up his body until his teeth are chattering too.

He presses onwards, afraid that being late will have worse consequences than interrupting whatever battle could be happening beyond the trees.

Yesterday, after returning home from his lackluster Genjutsu lesson, Sasuke received a summons.

Well, Obito was the one who answered the door and read the letter. Sasuke was a bit too preoccupied with his Sharingan-induced migraine, and was struggling through a fitful nap in his room with the curtains drawn closed. 

He must have gotten the message soon after they returned from training, but Obito didn’t read it until later that evening, when Kakashi had returned home from a meeting with the Hokage.

It was from Tsunade, who was demanding he meet her for training at 9 A.M. sharp the next day. Sasuke wanted to protest and blow her off, but Obito wouldn’t let him.

In turn, Sasuke complained bitterly about his “bitch-of-a-headache.”

It took Kakashi’s intervention to get Sasuke to comply. As luck would have it, Kakashi had quite few treatment recommendations for Sasuke’s migraine, as he also suffered from the same affliction after using his Sharingan.

A hot compress on his forehead, coupled with some ice water and some powerful, prescription painkillers, brightened Sasuke’s mood considerably.

And when Kakashi threw in the bribe of a fresh set of explosive tags, drawn by the Hokage himself, Sasuke was practically jumping out of bed in his excitement to meet with Tsunade.

So here Sasuke is, tentatively approaching Training Ground 4 at 8:55 in the morning.

He creeps out from behind a pine tree, hoping to get a good look at Tsunade and her mysterious dueling partner.

Almost immediately after he pokes his head out, a chunk of rock the size of Sasuke’s fist goes flying at his forehead. He dodges automatically, panic setting in a few seconds after the rubble has gone flying past his shoulder and into the forest beyond.

Sasuke blinks wide, because _what kind of training is going on here?_

In all of Konoha, there are very few people who can go toe-toe with Tsunade. There are fewer still who will openly challenge her, thanks to her reputation and pedigree.

A blur of pink races past Sasuke, and all of the puzzle pieces lock into place.

If one person was going to fight Tsunade in an all-out spar, of course it would be her own pupil.

Sasuke watches in awe as Sakura draws near to Tsunade, laying down hit after hit with a textbook precision Sasuke can only dream of. Sakura’s chakra control is an impressive sight, her fist glowing light green as she summons up the energy to knock Tsunade down.

He holds his breath in time with Sakura’s calculated movement, eager to see his own friend and fellow Jounin hit one of the Legendary Sannin.

Just as Sakura’s gloved hand reaches Tsunade’s ageless face, Tsunade reacts.

She barely moves, but it's enough. Tsunade, exerting almost no energy at all, extends her left hand and grasps Sakura’s arm. With a mighty yank, she sends Sakura flying upside-down and backwards, all of the younger woman’s forward momentum being used against her.

Her body ragdolls, slamming into the ground with a cloud of dust.

There’s faint coughing heard from the Sakura-sized crater in the ground, and a second later, a thumbs up appears from the rubble.

“I’m okay!” She calls out, sounding far too perky for Sasuke’s liking.

Immediately, Tsunade relaxes, sinking down onto her heels and resting her hands back at her side. There’s a noticeable shift in the atmospheric chakra levels as she does so, and Sasuke lets out a sigh of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in.

It’s easy to forget sometimes, just how formidable an opponent Tsunade can be.

And speaking of formidable opponents, Sakura pries herself off the dirt with a half-hearted smile. She spots Sasuke before Tsunade does, calling out an excited “Good morning, Sasuke!”

Sasuke manages a half-hearted wave.

He hasn’t seen too much of Sakura lately, shut in that he’s been. He keeps on telling himself that she’s been too busy, with hospital shifts and Lee and other important Jounin duties, but standing here now, he realizes that he’s been lying to himself.

Sasuke’s been purposefully ignoring his childhood best friend, just because he was embarrassed and hurt over a breakup.

Sakura takes some pointers from Tsunade before eventually bidding her teacher goodbye. Slinging her gym bag over her shoulder, she starts up on the road.

The road that Sasuke is standing on.

She stops as she approaches, something like understanding in her soft, green eyes.

“Sakura, I...” he manages to croak out. He feels dread welling up in his stomach. What has Naruto told her? What has she been left to assume?

She holds up a hand.

“You don’t need to explain yourself, Sasuke.”

And just like that, she pulls him into a quick hug. Sasuke lets it happen, too relieved to do anything else.

“I’m glad to see you getting outside,” she whispers into his ear, still using that kind, soothing tone of voice. It’s probably the same one she uses on spooked patients to get them to calm down.

Loathe as he is to admit it, it’s working on Sasuke.

“I’m glad to be here too,” he retorts dryly. Not his best comeback, but it will be enough to appease Sakura.

She breaks away after a moment, giving Sasuke a sweaty smile.

“I have to go, or I’ll be late to my shift.”

“Oh,” Sasuke breathes out. He’s a bit disappointed--he was just starting to get excited about Sakura’s presence.

“But,” she corrects quickly, “we should meet up for lunch.”

Sasuke nods, too fast to play off as nonchalance.

“That would be great,” he says. He’s surprised to find he means it.

And Sakura’s heading off with one last happy smile, her damp-ponytail and dirt-stained leggings the last thing Sasuke sees.

“If you’re done with your small-talk,” Tsunade taunts from behind, “I’d like to get started on warm-ups!”

Sasuke, remembering his 9 A.M. summon, moves faster than a man with his ass on fire.

\----

Tsunade’s leg sweeps Sasuke out from under his feet, and he goes crashing to the ground for the fifth time in the past two minutes.

“Again,” Tsunade orders. “How are you supposed to call yourself a proper Jounin if you can’t handle a simple front-on assault?”

Sasuke rolls his eyes in frustration. He can’t believe he was actually excited at the beginning of this training session. He’s been giving Tsunade his full attention and effort, but she seems to bulldoze right over him every time. 

She’s short-tempered and downright mean, a clear departure from her normal tough-love demeanor. Sasuke has never seen this behavior from her, even when she’s been stressed with official paperwork and hospital business and countrywide negotiations. Hell, drunk-Tsunade is more pleasant to deal with than the woman in front of him right now.

“I’m trying!”

He stops to catch his breath, determined to make Tsunade see his side of things. 

“Maybe, if I actually got some real pointers on what I’m doing wrong,” he growls out, “I could learn something.”

Tsunade’s frown deepens, and Sasuke flicks a nervous glance at her sleeveless torso and flexing biceps, which are practically as wide as Sasuke’s thighs.

Might as well speak his entire piece, if Tsunade’s going to beat his ass either way.

Throwing caution to the wind, the last thing Sasuke thinks before opening his mouth is _at least Tsunade is a healer too._

“You’ve been acting mean all morning! And not typical old-hag mean.”

He can see Tsunade tensing up further, but Sasuke refuses to back down.

“I can’t believe I was honored that you’d asked me to train with you,” he murmurs, more to himself than to her.

Sensing that she heard that last bit, Sasuke tilts his face back towards Tsunade, his whole posture radiating sincerity.

“This must be the perfect shitty ending to my shitty week.”

Tsunade sighs. Nothing in her posture says anger anymore, the wrinkling of her forehead and slump of her shoulders leaning more towards defeat.

“Let’s sit down,” she offers, turning away before Sasuke can respond. He follows her, a bit mystified about her sudden change in disposition.

The grass is still damp from morning dew, but neither Sasuke nor Tsunade bother to point it out.

Sasuke is too preoccupied with his own thoughts and frustrations. He feels bad for snapping at Tsunade during training, all her bad teaching and unkind remarks aside. He scrambles for a way to explain his situation without giving too much away.

As he’s studying her, brainstorming a way to gracefully describe his breakup with Tsunade’s own relative, Sasuke notices something odd.

Tsunade is fidgeting.

Her long and nimble fingers are twisting the chain around her neck back and forth, to the point the Sasuke can see the end of the necklace and the ring attached that dip low into her blouse.

The ring isn’t surprising—Sasuke knows, through Obito’s own minced words and Tsunade’s subtle hints that she was once engaged to another Konoha Shinobi. And just as many other romances seen to go, it ended in tragedy and heartbreak.

No—the odd thing about this mannerism is that it’s so obviously a nervous tick. 

A nervous tick from Tsunade, who embodies confidence so thoroughly that many a foreign diplomat have mistaken her for the Hokage.

Sasuke realizes with a start that this training session might not just be for his benefit.

Obito was oddly insistent that he come today, in the way that parents often force their children to visit grandparents. Sasuke’s heard Naruto make enough “Granny Tsunade” jokes for the connection to be clear in his mind.

Thinking back on last night, there seemed to be something Obito and Kakashi weren’t saying. Obito had known what happened to Sasuke on his mission without Sasuke ever explaining it. Kakashi, with the exception of Asuma’s funeral, had been attending meetings at the Hokage Tower every day without fail.

If Sasuke wasn’t so distracted by his headache and his heartache, he might have noticed the hushed conversations between Obito and Kakashi, the stress carried in the lines of Kakashi’s body each day when he returned home. He might have even realized that as the Hokage’s First Advisor, Tsunade would attend all of the same meetings as Kakashi. She would know the same things as him, feel the same pressures he felt.

“Is everything alright?”

His voice is soft and unsure, unused to playing the part of emotional support for others.

Tsunade looks up, surprised at the question and even more surprised at the person asking it. Her hands drop the fine necklace chain as she considers her answer.

“Yes and no,” she finally says. 

“And what does that mean?” Sasuke replies, a wrinkle in his brow that wasn’t there moments ago. He hates the lies by omission that Shinobi often speak in—vagueness is not far behind, and always sounds so painfully transparent.

Tsunade gives him a look that would send weaker men running for the hills. To Sasuke, it is nothing more than the face of a grumpy old woman. He’s given her shit for worse things before, and he’ll gladly do it again.

“It means that I am upset about many things right now, but my hurt will dull with time. The problems I am facing and the problems Konoha are facing will get solved—I am sure of that.”

She pauses for a moment, eyes tracking the road with an intensity Sasuke doesn’t quite understand.

“But that doesn’t mean they are any less severe at this moment.”

Sasuke flops down onto the grass in a huff of annoyance. Tsunade could be speaking in another dialect for all that Sasuke understood. She sounded eerily like Naruto in professional environments, talking in the same broad generalizations and detached tone.

Sasuke decides to be blunt—If nothing else, it’ll probably get Tsunade scolding him like normal. At this point, anything would be better than the shell of a person in front of him.

“I have no clue what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Tsunade sighs, but Sasuke can’t quite make out her face from his angle on the ground. All he can do is listen.

“You’re too young to understand,” she says, a wistful note in her voice that’s carried by the soft morning breeze. Sasuke resists the urge to argue. “It’s terribly difficult to maintain relationships as an adult. You get busy with life—new jobs and far-off travel and politics—and you let go of those childhood friendships without ever realizing it.”

Sasuke thinks of Sakura, always running back and forth from training to the hospital to missions to her parents’ house. He’s barely seen her these past few weeks, where once upon a time they would spend endless hours in the dark hallways of the main branch library.

He can’t even remember the last time he talked to Sai.

He won’t spare a thought for Naruto, and how easily he seemed to burn that bridge.

“Maybe,” Tsunade continues, “what we had was already broken. I certainly wasn’t the same after the Second War, and neither were they.”

Sasuke snaps out of his own thoughts, surprised by Tsunade’s words. He grasps at blank faces and blurred names, trying to figure out who Tsunade could possibly be referring to.

“We hated each other, yknow,” she admits with a chuckle. “For the best team in Shinobi history, we were the most dysfunctional people you could meet.”

“I get it.” 

He won’t say more. Sasuke’s said enough about his cursed bloodline to last a lifetime.

Tsunade turns towards him, her dusty blond ponytails spinning out with the wind.

“Sasuke,” she warns, a determined glint in her eye, “Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Hold tight to the people you care about, because they’ll be gone before you know it.”

Sasuke looks up at her, confusion and apprehension clearly spelled across his face. He doesn’t know who Tsunade lost, to make her so serious.

“What happened?”

They stare at each other for a moment.

Tsunade cracks first.

“Do you remember Jiraiya? He was one of the Sannin.” Her eyes flick away, then back to Sasuke. “My teammate.”

_Was,_ not is. Sasuke gulps down dread and finds the will to speak.

“I saw him, once or twice. He seemed kind of…”

“Creepy?” Tsunade flashes a grin, good humored where her tone is melancholy. “He was a disgusting man. I don’t think I ever got through a conversation with Jiraiya without him blatantly ogling my breasts.”

Sasuke recalls the books on Obito’s shelf, the ones he was banned from looking at as a young child. Imagine his surprise when he snuck one to the academy one day, only to find its pages littered with Kakashi’s familiar handwriting and some...enlightening text.

A few years down the road, it was Naruto who kindly pointed out that the porn-adventure best sellers were written by his own godfather. An author, a friend of the Uzumakis, and a Sannin. The kind of resume most people can only dream of. 

“Still, he was my friend.”

Sasuke nods. 

“It was easier to hate Orochimaru, after the Chunin Exams.” She tugs again at her necklace, the display of nervousness clear to see. “When Akatsuki delivered his head on a platter, I barely cared. Maybe that was me burying my emotions deep down, or maybe I really had learned to let go.”

Sasuke thinks of spinning, red eyes and a brother. A traitor. 

He doesn’t know how he would feel, if Itachi were to turn up dead tomorrow. 

Would he be relieved? Would he feel cheated of his revenge? Would he mourn for the boy Itachi once was?

“I thought I had more time with Jiraiya,” Tsunade admits. Her voice is shaky.

Sasuke studies her, but her eyes look no more glassy than usual. She will not cry. Not in front of Sasuke, maybe not even by herself.

“Was it Akatsuki?”

“Yes.” 

Her response says enough, stony and hard and full of hate.

“Will there be a funeral?”

Tsunade drops her necklace again.

“No. There is no body to bury, and not nearly enough of us to mourn him.”

Sasuke doesn’t know how to respond. Two of the greatest Shinobi of all time, Tsunade’s two teammates, who lived like the protagonists of epic poems. No funerals held for either of them, because they are disgraced and forgotten. Sasuke can’t imagine an ending more pitiful than that.

How must Tsunade feel, at the lack of closure?

There are no words of comfort on the tip of his tongue.

So, he offers his presence. They sit together for a while, him and Tsunade and her engagement ring for a dead lover.

Sasuke’s heard rumors, old wives tales, and childish superstitions. Stories about long dead warriors, with unfulfilled goals cut short after their untimely ends. Kids used to whisper on the playground that the ghosts of those who have passed may still haunt the Earth, if they are not properly put to rest.

But Sasuke calls bullshit. His family has never returned, except for in his dreams. The founders of Konoha do not watch over them, and they certainly do not protect them.

No. The only ghosts are here, among the living. It's the unlucky survivors—people like him and Tsunade—who live half-lives. 

If there is a way to escape the torment of the past, neither Sasuke nor Tsunade have figured it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the brief chapter. My outline is about two chapters off and I realized I didn't want to have nonstop escalation and action, so I decided to feature some slightly boring conversations. I'm not satisfied with the end result, but if I don't update now I'll lose all my momentum. Oh well!


	7. Oblivion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some gore in this chapter. Also word length. This bad boy is like...12k

Two and a half weeks after the mission, Ino throws a party.

The event itself is not surprising. Since the age of sixteen onwards, Ino has considered herself to be a “Party Planner Extraordinaire.” Naturally, that means she throws a lot of parties.

What’s surprising is that she’s throwing one now, so soon after Asuma’s death shocked Konoha to its core.

The entire village has been on high alert since the Akatsuki attack, all eyes up and ears open for any sign of the terrorist organization.

Sasuke thinks back to a time where things seemed simpler, when the tension in the town wasn’t drawn as tight as a Samurai’s bowstring.

He laughed off Obito’s missions so easily back then.

Maybe Akatsuki isn’t so bad, he told Naruto oh-so-many weeks ago. If Sasuke could eat his words, he would.

Naruto was so unnerved, his carefully calculated mask slipping at Sasuke’s statement. And Sasuke had looked right past it. He dismissed it as Naruto’s usual passion and political ideology. 

He couldn’t have known the truth.

But that’s neither here nor there, because tonight, Ino is throwing a party.

Sasuke would usually hem and haw over attending, torn between Sakura’s urging and Obito’s lectures on the dangers of teenage alcoholism. Ino would pester Sasuke about whether he was coming or not, not that she “actually cared about him or anything like that.”

Her words, not his.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, Sasuke would inevitably wait for Naruto’s input. All it took was a gentle smile from Naruto, and a couple coaxing words.

“Socialization is good for the soul, Sasuke,” he would say, and Sasuke was putty in his hands.

Now, he can’t help but wonder if it was genuine. Did Naruto actually want him there, or did he just enjoy the thrill of manipulating some as difficult as Sasuke?

There will be no convincing smile from Naruto this time, though. Sasuke heard from Tenten who heard from Karin that her, Naruto, and Kushina were all working overtime, what with Akatsuki on the prowl. 

Sasuke knows for a fact that they’re on high alert for a much more personal reason.

Jinchuurikis just might be more trouble than they're worth.

There’s a memory of hot, acidic breath on Sasuke’s face and a claw pointed at his heart, but he doesn’t begrudge Kurama for his existence. After all, he’s the reason a certain ex of Sasuke’s won’t be present at the party tonight.

Sasuke smiles to himself at the thought.

He just might be getting better at this positive thinking thing.

\----

Sakura’s huddled outside his front stoop that night, fuzzy green jacket pulled tight across her arms. She’s elected to wear a scandalously short skirt, and Sasuke can’t even imagine how cold her bare legs must feel against the stinging night breeze.

He knows that an irritable and cold Sakura is a far more dangerous thing than his slightly mussed hair, so he rushes out the front door before she loses her patience.

Flicking the lights off behind him and locking the door soundly, he turns around to see Sakura’s cocked head.

“Is Obito not home?”

“Oh.” He regards the dark interior front window before swiveling around again. “He went on that mission with Tsunade and the Hokage and Kakashi.”

Sakura nods sharply, the close-cut pink curls around her neck bobbing with the motion. She doesn’t ask anymore, because she’s familiar enough with the mission parameters.

Shortly after Sasuke made the firm decision to attend Ino’s party this morning, the Elder Council of Konoha made an announcement.

Unsurprising to no one, Akatsuki was declared a S-Class threat, and as such, a special mission had to be carried out to eliminate them.

Civilian intelligence from a nearby town in Fire Country had come in, and the reported sightings of Pein, Konan, and Kakuzu in the area was enough to light a fire under the asses of Konoha’s leaders. Couple that with outside pressures from the Daimyo himself and all of Wind Country, including Sabaku no Gaara, and a high-profile mission wasn’t really that out of the blue.

In fact, the mission was so high profile that the Hokage himself was taking the lead.

And when given the choice of a team, the Hokage had picked his own students.

No one dared accuse him of favoritism. Obito had a long history of successful assassinations, including the deaths of two other Akatsuki members. Kakashi made up for his relative “inexperience” with an impressive tenure in ANBU, and a proficiency with the Sharingan that most Uchiha warriors in their prime could not match.

Rounding out their ranks is Tsunade, for reasons both political and strategic.

She’s a healer and a warrior, yes, but Sasuke has a good idea of what the Elder Council is thinking in sending her to fight.

The other two Sannin died within weeks of each other, each by Akatsuki hands. The Council probably suspects that they’re hunting down her cohort, and that she’s the next target.

By sending her away, they think they can get Akatsuki to move away from Konoha.

Sasuke knows better. And considering that the Jinchuuriki is the Hokage’s son, Sasuke bets the Yondaime does too.

It seems the chips have fallen in his favor, because he has been handed the opportunity to hunt down his child’s attackers on a silver platter.

Sasuke knows all this and more, but he can’t tell a living soul.

Instead, he has to see Sakura shift uncomfortably at the mention of the mission. 

He can see the way her cheeks flush from cold and nervousness, because she thinks her beloved teacher is Akatsuki’s target. 

Sasuke loves her too, and he hates to watch Sakura suffer. 

He will not tell her that Tsunade is nothing more than a human shield.

\----

“So, like, you could tell me what my mind looks like on the inside?” Kiba slurs through yeast-y breath.

Sasuke nods fervently.

He might have had a few too many beers tonight, and his drunkenness has made him overconfident and loose-lipped.

What better thing to brag about than a skill accessible only through generations and generations of inbreeding?

“Knowing you, Kiba,” Shikamaru comments, his voice slightly too loud for his usual disposition, “it would be four blank walls.”

Choji guffaws, and there’s a lurching feeling in Sasuke stomach as he meets Kiba’s bitter stink eye.

“What about me?” Shikamaru challenges, his tipsiness making him a tinge too bold.

Sasuke studies him for a second, something like concentration playing across his face.

“No. I think I’d get lost in your brain in the state I’m in.”

Kiba and Choji sigh in disappointment like little children given empty promises. They were really expecting to see some Genjutsu action tonight.

Under any other circumstances, Sasuke would be more than happy to show off. 

He thinks that this time, he made the right decision. He can feel Sakura’s icy glare on his back from across the room. He doesn’t know what Obito might have told her after his disastrous Sharingan training session, but it was enough to make her nervous.

On top of all the lies and secrets, this betrayal barely even stings.

“Excuse me,” Sasuke announces, pushing himself away from the other with a motion too sudden and clumsy to come from a sober man.

Shikamaru bids him goodbye with a cool wave, and Sasuke is pushing himself across the room before he can think twice.

He brushes past Hinata and Neji and Shino at the counter, sparing a long glance at Hinata’s impressive cup size. 

She’s wearing a deep-cut purple V-neck, and Sasuke may not be straight, but the shape of her chest is so striking, he can’t help but look.

A dark shape passes by in front of the Hyuuga’s lovely pale skin, and Sasuke comes face-to-face with something far uglier. Hyuuga Fucking Neji.

Neji gives him “Bitch-Face No. 6,” or Sasuke has come to know it, “Stop talking to me and my cousin right now, dirty little Uchiha.”

Sasuke keeps on moving, lest this party turns into a full-on brawl.

He cuts by Tenten, Lee, Sakura, and Sai, all seated comfortably on the couch.

The only one who acknowledges him is Tenten, her friendly wave more of a formality than an invitation to join them.

Sasuke tries not to feel envious of the way Sakura and Lee are tangled up together, their smiling faces and giggling whispers the young adult equivalent of marital bliss. 

If anything, he should be jealous of Sai, who has passed out into sweet, sweet oblivion by this point in the night.

Sasuke shoots a wistful glance in their direction but pushes onwards anyways.

He skirts around groups of people, both Shinobi close in age and civilian alike. 

There is one group of suspiciously attractive young men, their eyes hungry with something like desperation. Sasuke easily identifies them as Ino’s broken hearts club and makes a wide berth around their cologne-scented meeting.

They whisper about Ino, eyes scanning the party. If only they knew that she discards men like used tissues.

Pinpricks of darkness field Sasuke’s vision, and he pushes away before he can ogle them the way he ogled Hinata’s breasts.

There’s the Sarutobi kid and his friends, who are old enough to be coming to parties like this now, apparently, Damn does that make Sasuke feel old. He avoids them like the plague, worried that Sarutobi will pester him with questions about “Big-Bro Naruto.”

Another mask for another person, Sasuke supposes. But he isn’t cruel enough to shatter the boy’s one-sided crush, the way his own came crashing down.

There are plenty of other people here that Sasuke doesn’t know. Faces he recognizes, names he doesn’t remember, and flat-out strangers.

It dawns on him that Ino is probably the most popular person in town, besides a certain Uzumaki individual.

Sasuke can feel their curious eyes, their hushed words as he passes by. 

He hasn’t felt this exposed since the weeks after the slaughter, and it surprises him, how suffocating the attention is. The gossip and the pressure gather around his throat like Obito’s clinging vines. Static fills his brain, and if Sasuke is outsight stumbling or running, he doesn’t care.

He barely makes it out into the backyard in time.

Sliding open the glass door like his life depends on it, Sasuke hightails it outside, taking big gulps of the night air. He coaches himself through the breathing, neck craned at the sky to steady himself. He imagines all those prying eyes as far off stars, and slowly, his anxiety dissipates.

The ringing numbness that was growing in his ears for the past couple minutes slowly recedes.

He can feel his fingertips again, can hear the background noises of the party over his own thudding heartbeat.

His lungs burn with cold, but at least Sasuke feels something. Like this, caught under the stars, and utterly alone. 

A soft tap on Sasuke’s shoulder startles him out of his newly-gained calm, reminding him he is not alone.

Before him stands Yamanaka Ino herself, her eyes a bit too red and watery for Sasuke to pretend that he doesn’t know she’s been crying. Her hair is as perfect as ever, smooth, shiny ponytail shining brightly under the moon. Adorned in a similarly styled skirt as Sakura, Sasuke wonders if she is also freezing out here.

He gestures to the cushy lawn chairs spread out over the patio of her backyard, and Ino nods in silent agreement.

They take a seat on the couch together, all the other chairs missing a thick, fabric cushion to line the slightly-wet plastic.

Sasuke listens to Ino’s breath, waiting for her to calm down.

If he needs some time to get his own head in order, then that’s just a nice perk.

Finally, Ino catches her breath and speaks.

“It’s been a hard couple of weeks for you.”

Any other time, any other person, and Sasuke would be livid. 

He wouldn’t want to appear weak, let alone pitiable.

But for some reason, with Ino, it’s different. Sasuke knows she hasn’t ever pitied him, and probably never will. She has never excused his actions in the past, voicing her distaste for Sasuke’s attitude, his manners, his behavior, without hesitation.

It was Ino who patched him back up, after his last drunken rage.

She whipped him into shape and boosted his confidence in a time when he needed it most.

She got him to ask out Naruto. Look how that turned out.

Sasuke won’t begrudge her for that. That relationship would have fallen apart on its own, with Sasuke’s delusions and decisions and Naruto’s endless lies. 

“I feel like I’ve disappointed you,” he tells her under the honesty of the night sky.

She quirks a smile at that. “How so?”

“I’m… backsliding.” He doesn’t know how to say more, how to articulate his own pain.

Ino rolls her eyes, every bit as bratty as she was when they were thirteen and she was jealous of Sasuke and Sakura’s new-found friendship.

“Recovery isn’t a linear path, dumbass. You don’t just wake up and feel better one day.”

Her words carrying through the air, blanketed by the sounds of the bass-boosted music and drunken chatter indoors.

She grabs at his face, pinching his cheeks and pulling him close before he can react.

“Believe me when I say, you can’t cure depression with a cup of ice water and a good workout.”

“You can’t cure it with a boyfriend, either,” Sasuke fires back. Ino’s mouth turns down, her eyes flicking back to the glass door before meeting his own again.

“It’s been a hard couple of weeks for both of us,” she admits shyly.

He can’t help but notice the way she leans in closer to tell him this. Her mouth forms a lovely o-shape, her breath hot on his neck. It smells like cheap beer and generic brand toothpaste, but Sasuke doesn’t mind. He’s just glad to know he isn’t the only inebriated person here.

He pushes himself closer still, the space between them growing warm with shared body heat—it makes the rest of his exposed skin pimple with cold night air.

“It’s been a hard fucking life,” he points out, so soft that he isn’t sure Ino can even hear him.

They breathe for a moment, two as one, under a sky of millions upon millions.

And then they’re kissing, clumsy and drunken and equal in fervor.

Ino’s manicured hands slide through his hair, messy-ing up his dark locks further than they already were. Sasuke feels so stupid for obsessing over something so superficial. He can barely believe there was a time he thought a new haircut could make Naruto love him.

Sasuke kisses back with equal enthusiasm. He can feel Ino’s hands now roaming across his biceps, down his Shinobi-sculpted abdomen. Her lips are soft against his, and she tastes like the plastic cherry of childish lip gloss.

He squints his eyes, almost to the point of closing, and imagines something different.

With only the moonlight to guide him, Ino transforms beneath his fingers. Her near-platinum blonde hair turns richer in tone, to the sunny gold of Daimyos and Kings. Her half-open icy blue eyes grow darker too, the red-rimmed irises becoming the color of a far off southern ocean.

If Sasuke tilts his head just right, the shadows across Ino’s face melt into six, symmetric scars across her cheekbones.

He slots a hand onto her side, kneading at imaginary tan flesh. Where he expects to find hard lines and lithe muscles, there is soft skin and heavenly curves. 

Instantly the illusion is shattered.

Ino’s body is divine, and Sasuke wants none of it.

He breaks the kiss, extricating himself from Ino’s clinging arms with the speed of a true Konoha Jounin.

Luckily, she doesn’t try to grasp at him again, and Sasuke takes the moment to slow his breathing.

When he finally has his head on right, he speaks.

“Ino, you are smoking hot, and I mean that sincerely.”

He hears her huff in amusement, but she says nothing. 

“I just don’t think I’m into that whole...package.” He looks up nervously, expecting a slap to the face.

Ino smiles back, her mouth red from where he’d practically attacked it with his own.

“At least you can say you tried,” she jokes, the mischief already forming in her eyes.

“Besides,” Ino adds, standing up and smoothing her skirt in smooth motion that screams of repeated practice, “I could never go for a pretty boy like you.”

Sasuke chokes on his laughter, his dark bangs falling back into his eyes. 

“It certainly didn’t seem that way when you were eyeing Sai’s ass in those leather pants a few hours ago,” he taunts back.

Ino doesn’t deign to respond.

She merely flips him the middle finger, sashaying back into the house with more attitude than a verbal reply could ever hope to achieve.

Sasuke, for his part, remains on the bench.

He tilts his back, to squint up at the voyeuristic stars. Already his mind is clearing up, the sadness of his past week, month, year, and life lifting up off his shoulders.

Maybe Sakura’s girly magazines have a good point about breakups.

A rebound can work wonders.

\----

His head feels fuzzy.

That’s the first thing Sasuke thinks when he wakes up in the morning. Squinting his eyes against the piercing sunlight creeping in through the big glass window above his head, Sasuke struggles to remember where he is.

A quick glance around the room reveals soft purple walls and tacky, old glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling. 

There’s a soft white shag carpet underneath him, and it all feels so terribly familiar.

He pushes aside the much too small blanket covering his body and sits up, hoping to get a better view.

Sitting up and fully awake, Sasuke makes out a human-shaped lump on the floor next to him, swaddled in blankets so all he can see is a mop of messy pink hair.

Sasuke’s glad that Sakura is here with him, but he’s absolutely sure that this isn’t her bedroom. He’s been there many times, and there are no neutral beige walls, no floor-to-ceiling bookcases sagging with the weight of historical tomes and medical textbooks.

Finally, his eyes locate the bed. The sight of cascading blonde hair and Ino’s serene face is enough to trigger Sasuke’s memory, and last night’s bacchanal of a party comes rushing back. 

Sakura picked him up from his house, because Obito and Kakashi were away on a mission. 

Sasuke foolishly thought that having no “adult supervision” meant he could drink as much as he wanted.

And drink he did.

Slamming a palm to his forehead, Sasuke remembers how he nearly used the Sharingan on Kiba. He recalls a near-panic attack, and a mad dash to get outside. 

Outside, where Ino was waiting. The thought of him and Ino almost hooking up makes Sasuke want to barf. He sends a silent prayer to his drunk self for backing out of that one.

From there, the memories get less concrete. There was a dart game gone wrong, ending with a puncture wound on Kiba’s ass and a shattered Yamanaka flower vase.

Neji took his clothes off at one point? Maybe? Sasuke really hopes that memory doesn’t come back.

Sakura, confessing her love for Lee and crying in the process.

Knowing Lee, he was probably crying too.

Eventually everyone went home, aided by some more of the sober party-goers.

Except Sasuke and Sakura? 

Reasoning through it, Sasuke realizes that Sakura must have been planning to stay overnight anyways. And Sasuke, by virtue of being her friend, got to crash at the great Yamanaka Ino’s house too.

He can hear imaginary Sakura drunkenly reasoning through it in his head.

“Please Ino,” she would beg with her big green eyes. “His house is so empty and dark right now.”

Ino would roll her eyes at that, gesturing to her own empty house.

“He just went through a really bad breakup, and he needs all the support he can get.”

At Ino’s unimpressed glare, Sakura would double down, falling to her knees dramatically.

“He’s so drunk right now! He won’t be able to make it out the front door, much less across town.”

That and a thousand other arguments and those _damn puppy eyes_ , and even Ino, cold-hearted, self-professed bitch that she is, would cave.

So Sasuke really isn’t too surprised he ended up here, back in Ino’s bedroom.

His stomach growls loudly, and Sasuke realizes he has more pressing issues than a bad hangover. 

He kicks at the Sakura-shaped lump, hoping to wake her up. It’s that or Ino, and it’s slightly less likely for Sakura to try to bite his face off after being disturbed from her beauty sleep.

A couple more prods, and the lump moves, giving way to Sakura’s bleary eyes and confused face.

“Ske?” Her voice is raspy like an 80-year-old smoker, and Sasuke doesn’t even want to imagine how bad her dry mouth is to make such a typically eloquent person sound that way.

“I’m hungry,” he announces. _God_ , his voice sounds just as bad.

She nods in understand, before shifting her body away from Sasuke.

He watches in eager anticipation as she pulls the pillow out front under her head.

Wincing at the crick in his neck, Sasuke realizes he never got a pillow of his own. And judging from Ino’s behemoth of a bed, she had plenty more to spare.

Sakura lifts the pillow into the air triumphantly. Her sleeves bunch at her shoulders, revealing thick, well-muscled biceps.

He watches them flex as Sakura aims the pillow in Ino’s direction.

Then, like a Shinobi tossing senbon or kunai at an enemy, Sakura lobs the pillow in Ino’s direction with a near-deadly aim and force.

It hits her with a loud _thump,_ and slowly but surely, Ino rouses from her slumber, face so mad that there’s practically steam coming out of her ears.

“We’re hungry,” Sakura whines.

\----

Ladling another scoop of pancake batter into the hot pan, Sasuke takes an appreciative look out the kitchen window.

Ino’s house is big, with lots of open space and large, clean windows.

It’s perfect for the location. The house is smack dab in one of the nicest neighborhoods in all of Konoha, situated on the top of a hill at the edge of town. 

One end looks out over the sprawling urban mass of Konoha, off towards the Hokage Tower in the distance.

The other side faces the countryside. 

From here, Sasuke can make out the dense forest of his fond childhood memories. Between the pine and oak trees, he can make out a river, lazily winding by.

It’s idyllic. Picturesque.

Sasuke knows his way to the Uchiha compound by heart. It’s not too far from here, not that Sasuke ever walks by it anymore. 

Once upon a time, he could see the forest and river from there too. He would imagine himself as a little bird, flying free of rules and customs and his parents’ expectations.

Nowadays, his burdens are different. 

But they feel the same. 

Every time Sasuke summons one of his hawks, he feels a surge of envy, that old childhood dream poignant as ever.

“I’ve never been so happy to have a day off,” Sakura comments, startling Sasuke out of his forlorn gazing from the window.

He flips the pancake, frowning with distaste when he sees the dark brown side, a bit too overcooked for his liking.

“Lucky,” Ino replies after a long sip from her coffee. “I have a shift at the flower shop this evening.”

Sasuke almost speaks up, a question about the sunflowers or tiger lilies in their inventory on the tip of his tongue.

He catches himself last minute. It’s an old habit at this point. Sasuke spent quite a few years agonizing over the choice between the two flowers, to the point of near obsession. When Sakura foolishly suggested forget-me-nots instead to match Naruto’s eyes, Sasuke nearly ripped his hair out in frustration. 

It’s ironic—Sasuke wasted all those years on something so insignificant as flowers, and when he finally got his dream, the relationship didn’t last long enough to gift a single bouquet.

Sasuke resigns himself to that shameful regret. What’s one extra drop, when Sasuke’s sadness feels as wide and insurmountable as an ocean?

He scoops out another spoonful of batter, idly listening to Sakura and Ino’s chatter.

He leans over the stove to pour the pancake mix when something knocks the spoon out of his hand.

There’s a ringing, deep sound like the biggest earth jutsu Sasuke has ever heard, and it feels like the very floor is giving out under him. 

In fact, the shaking is so powerful that Sasuke almost falls over with the force of it.

He regains his footing with a trained athleticism, and whirls around to check on Ino and Sakura.

“What the hell was that?” Ino shrieks, picking herself up off of the floor.

Sakura’s brow is pinched, her eyes already flicking towards the door in concern.

“I’m not sure,” she says, tugging on her sandals, “but we need to figure it out.”

“Right,” Sasuke replies. He turns the stove off, sparing one last wistful glance at the cooling-pancakes on the counter before following Sakura and Ino out the front door.

He gets the feeling he might not have a chance to eat for a while yet.

\----

Out on the front yard, civilians are gathered, their tense whispers and nervous glances obvious from across the street.

“We need everyone to stay calm,” Sakura announces, her emergency relief training already kicking in. “We suspect it might have been an earthquake, and if that's the case, you all need to get out of your houses in case of aftershocks. Stay away from the buildings, telephone wires, and any other heavy structures.”

She turns her back, trying to get a better view of Konoha. 

“We’re going to investigate, but I need you all to stay here.”

Sakura is running off before any of the neighbors have a chance to react.

Sasuke and Ino sprint after her, their Shinobi training kicking in.

“It came from downtown,” Ino yells above the rushing wind, gesturing vaguely at the end of the road, which leads back to the rest of Konoha.

“I know,” Sakura replies, her voice steady.

“Sakura,” he calls out, finally recognizing the rumbling in his stomach as fear, “I don’t think that was an earthquake.”

He’s familiar with what a natural disaster like an earthquake entails, including the potential dangers and proper emergency protocol. Hell, he even went on the disaster relief trip to Mist Country a few years back, when their small fishing villages were ravaged by a combination earthquake-tsunami.

But Fire Country never gets earthquakes. It doesn’t make sense to get one now, and not one so peculiar feeling.

“I know,” Sakura says, her pace not slowing for a second.

\----

They make good time, nearing the city in just a few minutes with their sprinting.

As they get closer and closer to downtown, in the direction of the “earthquake,” Sasuke begins to notice a change in their surroundings. The streets are busier, people outside and upset. Debris litters the street, and while no buildings have collapsed around here yet, there’s a visible layer of dust in the air than could only reasonably come from demolition of some sort.

Sasuke braces himself for the sights they might find downtown.

He has an image stuck in his head, of a child, no older than four, trapped beneath a chunk of wood with glassy eyes and bloodstained clothes when the next aftershock hits.

The entire world comes crashing down around Sasuke, and in the split-second between the noise and the rumbling, Sasuke knows in his heart that this is no earthquake or aftershock.

Out in the open as he is, no chunks of wood and plastic and metal come crashing down on him. Instead, Sasuke’s body crumples, his head hitting hard asphalt as he lands.

After what feels like an ear-splitting, teeth-rattling, bone-shattering eternity, the vibrations stop.

He lays in shock for a moment, trying to place where he is and what he’s doing. Finally, it comes back to him.

Sasuke blinks away the sudden fog, wiping at the darkness that’s blotting out his vision.

Peeling himself off the ground with a pained grunt, Sasuke tries to comprehend the scene before him. 

They’ve reached downtown, he realizes with a start.

Except it doesn’t look anything like downtown. The elegant white and red lanterns that line the streets are nowhere to be found, their crushed paper shells laying under chunks of stone. The multi-story buildings, cute local shops and apartments layered on top which crowd the Konoha skyline are gone.

All that’s left is piles of rubble, twenty feet high.

Sasuke can hear crying and screaming and sirens, but it's all far off. He smells smoke in the air, from broken power lines and stoves left on, but fire is far from their biggest problem.

He sees glimpses of skin, swatches of cloth, strands of hair that connect to bodies, buried under all the rubble. 

Everyone who didn’t make it in time. All their evacuation plans, their rush to help, and it's for nothing.

There’s movement before him, and he realizes it’s Ino, half pinned under a wedge of concrete from a nearby building that crashed down.

“Ino?” he calls out, voice too loud for his own ears and throbbing headache.

“Sasuke!” She thrashes around under the concrete, tear tracks wiping away the dust on her cheeks and her mouth open in a loud wail. Sasuke can’t quite see what’s wrong, because Ino looks perfectly okay, her body still intact, except for her left leg, which he can’t quite see from this angle.

Oh.

He puts the concrete wedge and slowly pooling puddle of blood together and realizes exactly why Ino is freaking out. Judging by the amount of space between the ground and the giant stone block, Sasuke would warrant a guess and say that Ino’s leg is not just broken.

It’s completely pulverized, crushed into nothing more than bone shards and blood and gristle.

She stills, her eyes taking in something over Sasuke’s shoulder.

Her breathing grows heavy, and she’s screaming, shrill but quiet to Sasuke’s own ears.

Sasuke whips around, and that’s when he sees it.

A stray thought passed him by earlier, how Sasuke was lucky to be in the center of the street and away from any man-made structures. A foot to the right, and he would have been squished to bits, just like Ino’s leg.

Sakura was on his other side, and a couple feet a head of the two of them.

He can see her clearly now, caught in a sort of prayer like position, hunched over her folded legs.

She’s dead silent and absolutely still, and Sasuke is too, all to the backdrop of Ino’s screams and distant sirens.

A metal pole runs through her torso, pinning her in place with its arm-width diameter. Her blood is dark and shiny, almost black in the shadows of the piles of rubble surrounding them.

The pole must have come in fast, shattering Sakura’s rib cage as it cut through from her back to her front. If she were breathing, it would sound wet and gaspy, a sure symptom of the wide hole splitting open her lungs.

Sasuke is not doctor, but he can tell when an injury is fatal.

Sasuke is feeling fuzzy, but Sakura’s visage before him comes out in startling clarity. 

He’s helpless.

He’s watching his best friend die, right in front of his very eyes. Maybe she’s already gone.

He places his head down on the pavement, too shocked to cry. 

Oh God.

“...ske”

Sasuke throws his hands against his ears, blocking out the imaginary whispers of Sakura. There’s an ugly feeling in his chest known only by the name of grief.

“Sasuke.”

No. Sasuke’s brain is just playing cruel tricks on him.

“SASUKE!”

He wrenches his face back up to Sakura’s cooling corpse, trying to reconcile reality with his own delusions.

But Sakura isn’t still. Her eyes are alert, and the scowl on her face speaks volumes, like she would deck Sasuke if she wasn’t busy being skewered by a metal pole. Beyond the look of frustration she’s leveling at him, thick black lines mar her face, originating back to the glowing white seal on her forehead. The chakra force coming off of her is overwhelming, strangely similar to the Nine Tails’ own life energy in overwhelming amount, if not color or feeling. 

Sasuke knows the seal on her forehead is some sort of advanced medical jutsu, that Tsunade bears the same one on her own brow and Uzumaki Mito did before her. Naruto was endlessly fascinated with it.

He never had much clue what it did, and can barely remember the name after all these years—Creation of One Hundred? Strength of Rebirth? Something along those lines.

“Can you pull me off this damn pole?” She squeezes the words out through heavy breathing. He’s amazed she’s still breathing, let alone talking.

He moves towards her, hands hovering anxiously around her midriff. The metal extends about a foot out from her abdomen, and to wrench her off, he’d have to slide her up and across the full distance.

“Hurry up!” She’s breathing harder now, and the seal seems to glow with it. Up close, he can see how it traces the entire length of her body, from her long neck to her manicured fingers to her sandaled feet. 

He knows without a doubt that the seal is keeping her alive. 

_Sakura has a plan_ , he assures himself. 

He grips her around the waist tight, eyeing the blood coated metal. Oddly enough, he’s glad to see it, knowing that it will provide some lubrication for an otherwise near-impossible task.

He counts down from three to prepare himself.

And then he’s pushing her forward with all his strength, trying to ignore the wet sounds of organ loss. 

Sakura grunts, but says nothing else, her own legs pushing her forward in conjunction with Sasuke’s efforts.

She grips his shoulders tight, almost to the point of shattering Sasuke’s collarbone.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he pulls her free of the pole. Immediately, she slumps into his arms, all traces of strength gone from her legs.

They stand there for a moment, breathing as one. Sasuke can feel the hair standing up on the back of his neck and arms, his senses cowed by the sheer amount of chakra radiating off of Sakura right now.

He spares a nervous glance at her abdomen and is stunned to see the hole growing smaller. Right before his very eyes, muscle and skin knit together like they have a mind of their own.

He looks back up at Sakura’s face.

“How?”

She shoots him a shaky smile, the chakra lines stretching out across her cheeks. “They may not be magic eyes, but I’ve got a few tricks of my own.”

He laughs, the sound fast and high from nervous energy. If Sakura notices, she doesn’t say anything.

Her hands lighten up on his shoulders, and he can feel her testing out her weight in either leg. He lets her, neither pushing or pulling her away, and eventually, she lets go, standing free from him.

There is a clear hole in her clothing, but underneath all the dirt and grime, clean, soft skin shines through. 

Sasuke despairs, wondering why out of all his friends, he seems to be the only one who can’t heal himself on a whim.

A crashing noise rings loud above the dust and rubble, and Sasuke knows from sound alone that the origin of these attacks is no more than a few blocks from here. 

Beside him, Sakura shifts nervously, glancing back and forth from Ino’s crumpled form to the ongoing noises of destruction. 

He can see her gathering chakra in her fingers, already figuring out the best way to heal their friend. In times like these, Sasuke envies her. He envies the way Sakura can wrap her head around a problem in ways that he can’t, the way she can remain so calm in the face of disaster and tragedy. He envies her status as Tsunade’s protegee and Kakashi’s favorite student, the way she can bounce back and forth from her domestic family life to Jounin assassination missions and graveyard hospital shifts. Perhaps most of all, he envies her healing hands, where his can only harm. 

Sasuke knows what he must do.

“You stay and help the survivors.”

Sakura tears her eyes away from Ino, her mouth agape. “What about you?”

He nods in the direction of the rumbling. “I’m going to go put a stop to this.”

Sakura’s eyebrows pinch, and an uncertain frown settles across her dirt-stained face. “You can’t go.”

He gestures to the destruction all around them, the cinder-block rubble and pooling blood and smoke trailing up into the sky. “I’m useless here, Sakura. I can’t help Ino, and I certainly can’t help you. The best I can do is to try to stop whatever is causing these attacks.”

Sakura’s eyes are growing suspiciously watery, and Sasuke flinches back when she takes a step towards him. 

She reaches out, her left hand ghosting over the cut on Sasuke’s forehead. She takes a few stuttering breaths before bursting out into frightened chatter. 

“For all we know, you could be concussed right now. You don’t have any kunai or scrolls on hand, you’re not properly dressed, and neither of us know what the hell is causing this attack. And on top of all that, you’re planning on going alone!”

Her words fade out into a staccato of hiccups and sobs, her arms wrapping around Sasuke’s neck like a clinging octopus. Sasuke hugs back, shushing her and patting the back of her hair the way Obito used to when he had nightmare-induced panic attacks.

He pulls away, shooting her a confident smile.

“It’s okay, Sakura. I’ll be fine, and you’ll be fine, and once this whole craziness is behind us, we can meet up at Ichiraku for dinner. Just like old times.”

Sakura gives him a small smile back.

“Besides,” Sasuke continues, “I have magic chakra eyes. What could possibly go wrong?”

He doesn’t stay long enough to hear Sakura’s response.

\----

As Sasuke nears his destination, the sounds of a battle grow louder and louder. A feeling of dread bubbles up from his stomach as he realizes that he will not be the first responder to the scene. However many people may have gotten here before him, none have managed to stop these attacks yet.

Sasuke crests a hill of rubble, feet steady on loose bricks and steel bars, and finally comes into view of the commotion. 

Surrounded on all sides by high walls of crushed buildings is a ring of flat dirt. It’s the same red-brown stone that lines all the cliffs along Konoha’s eastern edge. Trying to judge his location relative to Konoha’s half-destroyed skyline, Sasuke deduces that this must have been the main street square in Downtown Konoha. 

He blinks, trying to reconcile the image in his mind—a thick throng of people and open-air restaurants and five story buildings—with the expanse of dirt before him. He wonders what sort of destructive force could have wiped it all off the map, like it never existed in the first place.

Down below, there is noise. 

Sasuke’s eyes flicker, and he is helpless the fight, to offer any aid as a man clad in Akatsuki robes runs his arm clean through a middle-aged chunin soldier.

The Chunin, unrecognized to Sasuke with his greying hair and portly shape, falls to the ground with a wet gurgle, and is no more.

The Akatsuki member kicks the body aside, toward a pile of forest green lumps, and Sasuke realizes with a start that they are all corpses.

Corpses of fallen Shinobi.

His foot slips below him, and a brick goes tumbling off the rubble hill, landing in the wide dirt area with a _clack clack clack._

The Akatsuki member whips around, red and black robes whistling with the wind as he spots Sasuke.

Sasuke reaches for Kusanagi, only to find his hands scooping up empty air.

Below, the Akatsuki man tilts his head to the side, like a wild animal sizing Sasuke up. He doesn’t budge from his spot.

Sasuke climbs down the hill, never taking his eyes off the mysterious man.

His feet hit hard-packed earth, and Sasuke pulls himself straighter, puffing out his chest and letting the corner of his mouth dip into a deep frown.

“I’m giving you one chance to walk away.”

He hopes his voice comes out strong against the howling wind and distant noises of Konoha in distress. If being friends with Naruto had taught him one thing, it was that words can win battles more thoroughly than any jutsu or fighting technique. Sasuke doubts it will have any effect on someone as enigmatic and bloodthirsty as an Akatsuki member, but he has to try.

The man doesn’t smile, but there’s a flicker of mirth in his eyes.

“You must be Uchiha Sasuke. Excuse me if you’ve heard this before, but you’re the spitting image of your older brother.”

Sasuke stiffens at the comment. While he’s certainly thought the same thing, he hasn’t heard it aloud before, the topic too taboo to bring up in Konoha. 

Truth be told, Sasuke doesn’t know what his brother looks like past the age of fourteen—but he can assume. 

Uchiha men all look the same. Or, they did, once upon a time.

“You have me at a disadvantage,” Sasuke offers boldly. “I don’t recognize you from anywhere.”

And it’s true. He doesn't. Up close like this, he can see the man’s orange hair, the wrong shade to be of Uzumaki lineage and a color entirely uncommon throughout all of Fire Country. He’s got strange piercings dotted along his face, and though the man’s face is partially shadowed, Sasuke can see a strange discoloration in his eyes. Everything about the man’s appearance is off-putting and wrong, like an illusion Sasuke can’t quite dispel.

The man paces back and forth, giving Sasuke a wide berth like an animal circling in on its prey.

“My name is Pein. I am the leader of the Akatsuki.”

Sasuke knows the name. He’s heard it in whispers across Fire Country, through Wind Country and out into Amegakure. Little is known about the man, other than what he is already stated. 

And one other thing. Obito had mentioned it yesterday, before leaving town with the Hokage, Tsunade, and Kakashi. Pein was one of the men they were hunting down, with intent to kill.

Now here he stands, leveling Konoha like it’s an ant beneath his heel. The leader of their village, their last Sanin, and two of their only Sharingan users are nowhere to be found.

“I’ve heard of you,” Sasuke admits. “But I do not know what kind of person you are.”

Pein nods to himself. He doesn’t seem upset by Sasuke’s ignorance. “I do what needs to be done.” He turns his head, meeting Sasuke’s eyes with his own.

Sasuke clenches his fists, pushing down the waves of annoyance that swells up with this man’s vagueness. 

Pein takes a swift step in Sasuke’s direction, his cloak pooling around his ankles. “I am here for one reason, and one reason alone. If you point me in the right direction, I will leave Konoha by nightfall.”

“What is it you’re looking for?” Sasuke’s voice trembles, but he chokes out the words anyway.

He already knows what Akatsuki is here for. 

Finally, Pein smiles, slow and small and cruel. 

“The Jinchuuriki of the Nine Tails.”

Sasuke sees _red._

Uzumaki hair, Chunin blood, Konoha sunsets, and Kurama’s putrid Chakra. Itachi’s spinning red eyes and everything Sasuke loves and hates, all wrapped into one.

In this moment, he knows without a doubt that he cannot rat Naruto out like this. As many cruel things Naruto has said, and all the years Sasuke agonized over his gentle manipulations, Sasuke still cares for him. 

He’s guilty of treating Naruto like shit too.

Maybe, in another life, Sasuke would give him up. Pein would get his precious Jinchuuriki and leave Konoha alone. They could rebuild from their ashes, and Sasuke would be a hero. The town would embrace him for doing the right thing, for ridding them of such a strange beast. 

Who would be there to miss Naruto? The Hokage? The Uzumakis? 

For all Naruto does for Konoha, he is replaceable. They all are.

Sasuke grits his teeth against unpleasant truths and impossible ultimatums.

“I can’t do that.” 

If Sasuke thought that surrendering over Naruto would chase Pein away, maybe he would do it. But he has learned enough about Akatsuki at this point to know that’s not the case. They will come again, and when they do, they will be stronger, and Konoha will be without their best diplomat and resident Jinchuuriki. And Sasuke will be responsible for the death of one of the only people he loves on this miserable earth.

Pein’s smile fades, and he sighs in disappointment, the first human response Sasuke has seen him have.

“Very well.” Pein spreads his arms out, and Sasuke is nearly floored by the chakra he can sense gathering at the man’s fingertips. “You are brave to try to resist, Uchiha Sasuke.”

And then the entire world is warping around Sasuke, gravity dragging him down to his knees and popping all his joints in agony.

Sasuke twists out of the grip of this supernatural jutsu, rolling onto the hard dirt with a scream of pain frozen in the back of his throat. The moment he’s out of that spot, all pressure alleviates. 

He turns back to look at Pein, who hasn’t moved from his spot. Popping his neck, Sasuke thinks the attack through.

The jutsu he’s using, while incredibly advanced and unlike anything Sasuke has ever seen or heard of, seems to require a bit of concentration to use. It must have taken him a while to charge it up in that first attack. 

That explains why all of the successive earthquakes were smaller. Sasuke gazes at the pile of bodies, and he knows without a doubt that each rumble they felt was another life being taken.

Sasuke narrowly escaped the same fate.

He takes off in a sprint, staying within a knife’s throw of Pein. If he keeps moving, he won’t get hit by that jutsu again and Pein will be forced to get closer.

Pein tracks him slowly, his earth-slamming jutsu hitting every few seconds in the space behind Sasuke. Each time that force pushes into the ground at his heels, Sasuke’s arm hair rises in panic, knowing he narrowly escaped near death yet again.

Five minutes of this cat-and-mouse game goes by with neither getting tired. 

Except, Sasuke has the advantage of time on his side. There more he stalls, the more likely it is that reinforcements will arrive. And though he doesn’t recognize the jutsu, Sasuke bets that it’s draining Pein of energy pretty quickly. If he can keep this up for long enough, maybe he just might survive.

\----

Of course he isn’t that lucky.

After a few more minutes of running circles around Pein, the man rapidly shifts strategies. 

He lunges unexpectedly, fist swinging out in Sasuke’s direction so fast that Sasuke narrowly dodges it.

Sasuke vaults away before can Pein swing at him again. He stops to catch his breath, taking in the situation at hand.

It doesn’t seem like Pein is using any ranged weapons or advanced techniques, but Sasuke can’t shake the feeling that something is amiss here.

Still, he can’t keep playing defensively. Sasuke is devoid of all weapons and seals. All he has on hand are his fists and the Sharingan, and to use either, he’s going to need to get close again.

He takes off in a sprint towards Pein before he can second guess himself.

Soles of his feet hitting the ground hard, Sasuke gathers chakra in his hand the way he’s done a thousand times before, just like Kakashi taught him. 

Pure, unrestrained lighting cuts through flesh and bone better than any sword could ever hope to. Sasuke prays it will be enough to take down Pein.

By now he’s within spitting distance of Pein, and something is off.

Sasuke brings his right hand up, crackling with the screaming of a swarm of birds and aimed directly at Pein’s heart.

But Pein doesn’t doge out of the way. He doesn’t even ready his stance for the attack.

No. Pein lifts his own hand, ever so slightly, discolored by something Sasuke can’t see.

Then, easy as plucking petals off of a flower, he grabs Sasuke’s right hand and _snaps._

Sasuke screams in agony, veering off to the side before Pein can grab him again.

He comes to a staggering stop a few feet away, clutching at his now broken hand. Sasuke whimpers in disbelief, absolutely sure he has never seen anything like that. It felt like the same pressure of the Earth chakra but directed purely at Sasuke’s chidori.

He felt the chakra slip away from his body, absorbed by something alien and unnatural. A black hole at Pein’s fingertips.

Sasuke has felt many chakra signatures over the years. He’s seen the Hyuuga techniques, which cut through opponents like clear streams and ice shards. He’s felt the Yondaime’s teleportation technique, like soft wind on a sunny day. He’s been to Suna, where the chakra burns bright and abrasive like desert sand. Medical Jutsu and Uzumaki Chains, neat and orderly in perfect symmetry.

And Naruto and Kurama, and the life energy that burns down everything in its path, poisoning all that it comes into contact with. 

Pein’s energy, or lack thereof, is unlike anything Sasuke has ever felt.

It terrifies Sasuke, that cold, impersonal detachment.

He’s tentatively poking at his hand when he hears it.

A faint rustling and crunch, like clothes in the breeze and boots on gravel. Turning sharply, Sasuke finds Pein looming over him, closer than before. There’s blank space where his chakra should be, which explains why Sasuke was unable to sense him approaching.

But he’s here now, and Sasuke does the only thing he can think to do.

The Sharingan explodes from his eye, and red consumes his vision. The world spins beneath his fingertips, melting away into a Genjutsu of his own devising.

\----

Sasuke blinks up into the sunlight in confusion.

He’s still crouching on the hard-packed stone, piles of rubble poking into the sky all around him.

He nudges at his hand to test it, and scowls in confusion when it flares up in pain.

_Pein’s mindscape is...the real world?_

But that can’t be right. Nothing feels different. Sasuke is no more in control of his surroundings than he was five seconds ago. There is no dreamlike haziness at the corners of his vision, or microscope-focused details pinpointed by the Sharingan.

Sasuke squints at Pein’s sandaled feet, the way his black robe is a bit dusty at the hem from a day’s worth of death and destruction.

“My Sharingan…” Sasuke whispers, too disoriented and confused to believe that any of this is real. “What did you do?”

Pein stares down at him, features composed in a mask of neutrality. He says nothing.

And finally, Sasuke sees it. Those shadowed eyes are not just odd. They are inhuman, filled in purple in concentric circles into infinity.

Sasuke read a picture book about the Rinnegan as a child. The eyes of the gods, they had said. 

Something pierces through Sasuke’s left arm, driving all the way through and into the ground where it kicks up dust with the force of its movement. 

Sasuke barely feels the pain of it, too in shock to react. He lifts his broken, free hand towards the impaled arm, and sees how the cold ison spike easily ran clean through him.

He turns back towards Pein, a question he can’t quite voice on the tip of his tongue.

Pein doubles in his vision, an imprecise copy next to the original, except it's not really a copy at all, beyond the clothes and hair and piercings.

Another spike drives through Sasuke’s back, and all feeling below his hips is gone in a heartbeat. 

Another copy joins the two men, but Sasuke barely notices.

He fumbles for an explanation, for an answer. 

He doesn’t feel stabbing, shooting, squeezing pain in his arms and back. He doesn’t sense the wet warmth of blood gathering underneath him, or the feeling of dirt clinging to his sweaty skin.

All Sasuke feels is a sharp chill, radiating out from the spikes and into his flesh.

Slowly, gently, the original Pein comes to a crouching in front of Sasuke.

He extends a hand outward, cupping Sasuke’s cheek. At the point of contact, Sasuke’s skin grows numb.

He doesn’t notice.

“You are fortunate, Uchiha Sasuke. I am sparing you your eyes.”

His hands brush across Sasuke’s eyelids, pulling them down with a cold touch.

Sasuke tries to blink them back open, but they’re so heavy, and he is so, so tired.

“Be at peace, and know that your brother will avenge your death.”

The harsh sunlight filters through Sasuke’s closed eyes. 

A shadow floats above, a foot-shaped space blotting out the skin-tinged light.

Sasuke breathes slowly, inhaling deeply like he’s falling asleep.

The sun may be high in the sky, but Sasuke sees stars behind his eyes. He imagines the peace of the night, and knows that the sun will set eventually.

A rush of air, and the heel slams down, crushing bone and ground like eggshells.

There is oblivion.

\----

There is a canvas flapping against the cool night air.

Sasuke’s eyes flutter open, presenting the scene in blurry snapshots.

There’s a lantern in the corner, casting strange shadows across the small room. A sliver of light peeks in from the wall, not quite day or night, and Sasuke finally realizes he’s in a tent.

It’s small, barely enough room for two people with all the blankets and pillows strewn about. There’s a warm presence at Sasuke’s side, and it takes him a moment before he places the focused face and cherry-blossom hair.

“S’ra?” He whispers, throat raspy like sandpaper and coffee grounds.

She throws her textbook aside in surprise, meeting his eyes.

He tries to speak again, but no sound comes out. Helplessly, he moves his lips open and closed, hoping the voice will come back to him.

“Hold on.”

Sakura reaches over, retrieving a small glass of water with a straw poking out the lid.

She presses it to Sasuke’s face, adjusting his chin accordingly so he can get his lips around the straw.

“Drink slowly,” she orders, “unless you want to throw up.”

Sasuke doesn’t mind a bit of vomit, but he does mind pissing Sakura off, so he does as she says.

When he’s finally finished, she moves the bottle away. Sakura rests back on her knees, staring at Sasuke with ill-hidden concern.

“What happened?” Sasuke manages. He doesn’t sound like he’ll be hosting any radio shows anytime soon, but at least he’s speaking again. 

Sakura plucks at the threads on the blanket bunched around Sasuke’s legs. Up close, he can see bandages dotting her hands and arms, whatever rogue scratches from the attack still not healed. 

She delivers the report methodically, like she’s already been given a briefing on what to say and what not to say. It’s uncomfortable, to hear Sakura talking so plainly, all the emotion and heart sucked out of her.

But Sasuke lets her speak.

“The first attack happened at 11:17 A.M, yesterday morning. Pein, leader of the Akatsuki, snuck in through the backside of Konoha, where he was stopped at the border by a group of ANBU Agents, led by Aide to the Hokage, Kato Shizune. They put up a formidable fight, but were no match for Pein, who tore through their ranks and made his way to the shopping district in downtown Konoha.”

An image comes to the front of Sasuke’s mind, of a Chunin, cut down like paper by Pein’s own hand.

Sasuke wasn’t the first to arrive on the scene to challenge Pein.

“From there, at the Corner Plaza on Main Street and Senju Way, Pein released a forbidden Earth Jutsu that flattened the area around him in a four-block radius. The subsequent attack reached another three blocks outward in all directions, while also destabilizing many further away building and village infrastructure.”

The second attack was what caught the three of them, Sasuke remembers. A metal pole that ran clean through Sakura’s torso. A giant slab of concrete which destroyed Ino’s leg.

“Is Ino okay?” Sasuke interrupts. He can’t sit back and listen to what happened, not when one of his own friends may or may not be dead.

Sakura’s face grows pink, and Sasuke’s heart sinks.

“I tried to stop the blood flow,” Sakura offers, eyes trained on a spot on the blanket below. “But she’d lost too much too fast. Her leg was completely gone, and by the time I lifted the concrete away…”

Sasuke’s heart thuds in his chest.

Sakura clenches the blanket tight.

“She died in my arms, Sasuke. She died, and I left her body behind so I could find you. And I found you.”

Sasuke doesn’t know what she’s talking about. In his mind he can still feel Ino’s soft lips on his, her drunken giggles in his ear. He can’t recall seeing Sakura. Only a confrontation with Pein, and then nothing.

“Your skull was caved in, Sasuke! There were these… metal rods grafted onto your body, and your face was smashed to smithereens. I identified you by clothes alone.”

This just doesn’t make sense.

Sakura grabs Sasuke’s hand in her own, pulling it tight as she draws his eyes upwards to her face.

“Do you understand?”

He gulps.

“No.”

Her face is pleading, and god, Sasuke wants to understand.

“You died, and Ino died, but here you are. Ino’s perfectly fine, leg and all, three tents down. Shizune, whose dismembered corpse was found yesterday afternoon by auxiliary troops, is already out healing people injured in the attack.”

“How?”

Sakura shakes her head, mouth smoothing into a thin, flat line. Sasuke can already see the secret on her lips.

“Pein resurrected everyone with a forbidden jutsu, trading his life in the process.”

Purple eyes stare back at Sasuke.

“The Rinnegan,” he breathes out, a revelation already upon him despite Sakura’s deceptive words.

Sakura shakes her head halfheartedly, not trying to disguise her deceit but not being honest either.

“Sasuke, you know I can’t tell you about that…”

Frustration clouds Sasuke’s senses when he hears a throat clearing at the entrance of the tent.

He and Sakura both turn around, coming face to face with a bandaged-up Obito.

“I may be able to shed some light on the situation,” he offers with a small smile.

\----

Sakura clears out quickly, dropping a sisterly kiss on Sasuke’s forehead before exiting the tent. 

There’s a cold space by Sasuke’s legs where Sakura was sitting, but Obito fills it almost immediately.

When he’s all settled and Sakura’s shadow is no longer visible from outside the tent, Obito pulls Sasuke forward, enveloping him in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he whispers into Sasuke’s ear. Sasuke can feel moistness where Obito’s eyes meet his hair, but he doesn’t bring it up. “I should’ve stayed in Konoha. With you.”

Sasuke grips him tightly. He’s amazed out how much he missed Obito, when the man was only gone for slightly less than three days.

“It’s okay,” he whispers back. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

They stay like that for a bit, until it gets uncomfortable, and Obito pulls away reluctantly.

“Tsunade and Kakashi and Minato-Sensei are fine, by the way.”

Sasuke breathes a sigh of relief. But, he supposes it makes sense. While the mission may have been incredibly dangerous in objective and targets, the main threat was not present. 

No. Instead, Pein came marching right into Konoha.

“We nailed Kakuzu, that son-of-a-bitch,” Obito chuckles. “It took hours, with Konan running interference and the three Pein copies that were chasing us around.”

Sasuke blinks in surprise. “There were three Peins here too.”

Obito’s smile slips a bit. “That would be the Deva Path.”

“Deva Path?”

“It’s a technique that comes with the Rinnegan. It lets the user control six separate bodies, while keeping their actual physical form hidden away.”

Sasuke’s eyes widen. “So that’s what I saw—the Rinnegan?”

Obito nods, solemn and slow. “We’re not exactly advertising it to everyone, but yes. Pein was somehow in the possession of an ancient genetic quirk we thought had died out thousands of years ago.”

Sasuke takes a moment to process this. It seems that lately, all the fairytales and legends of his childhood seem to be coming true.

“Is that how he…?” Sasuke gestures at his own body. He doesn’t want to admit it aloud, the thought too terrifying to consider right now.

Luckily, Obito understands. “He used the Rinnegan to perform a technique we’ve never seen before—The Samsara of Heavenly Life.” Obito looks Sasuke dead in the eyes, radiating absolute sincerity. “He forfeited his own life, in order to bring back those he killed in the attack.”

“Why?”

Obito sighs, pushing Sasuke back down and pulling the blankets over his torso. Sasuke shivers—he’s been so caught up in his confusion that he hadn’t even realized how cold it was getting inside the tent.

“That’s not my story to tell.” Obito leans forward, kissing Sasuke in the same spot on the forehead that Sakura had a few minutes before. “Sleep well, Sasuke. I’ll see you in the morning.”

And he’s getting up and going, but Sasuke is already drifting back to sleep, the exhaustion of the past few days wearing on him terribly.

He slips into a state of unconsciousness quickly, all thoughts of death and destruction floating away like nothing more than half-remembered nightmares.

\----

Someone is snoring.

_Loudly._

Sasuke cracks one eye open in annoyance, like a long slumbering dragon looking for the thief that would dare enter its lair. 

He spots the culprit instantly, their bright blonde hair shining like a beacon against the sun that creeps in through the tent’s front flaps.

Less than two days ago, and Sasuke would have flipped out at the sight of Naruto. He would have been an emotional, overwrought mess, clinging stubbornly to old guilt and resentment.

Sasuke prides himself on being smarter than he was two days ago. Dying and being resurrected by the same man that killed you can do that to a person. 

To be honest, he could give less of a fuck how things ended between the two of them. He is here, living and breathing, and so is Naruto, curled up in a tight ball and snoring louder than an old man with inflamed tonsils.

So, Sasuke does the only thing he knows how to do around Naruto.

He kicks Naruto in the side. _Hard._

Naruto snaps awake immediately, sitting up and glancing around with wide blue eyes. When he spots Sasuke, he pulls himself into something cooler and more collected. 

Sasuke feels disappointment growing in his chest and braces himself for Naruto’s politician voice.

But something different happens. As Naruto is straightening his posture and schooling his features, he seems to falter. Blinking like he’s confused by his own actions, Naruto shakes out of the stiff pose, slumping his shoulders down and letting his face fall into a sincere, if uncertain smile.

Sasuke is at a loss for words.

“Um…” Naruto finally manages, scratching at the back of his neck like he’s a bit embarrassed. “Obito told me to come and talk to you.”

His eyes flicker back and forth from the floor to Sasuke’s face, almost as if there’s a tennis match going on in his brain. 

“But I came in here, and you were fast asleep, and you looked so peaceful, so I decided not to wake you up.” He flashes a goofy smile at Sasuke, all boyish charm. “I guess I might have dozed off too.”

Sasuke feels like his brain is leaking from his ears. Is this a dream he hasn’t woken up from?

He pinches his arm hard, with Naruto watching in concern.

Not a dream.

“Oh my god!” Sasuke shrieks, finally putting it all together. “It was you who got Pein to undo the damage, wasn’t it?

Naruto shrugs, color tinging his cheeks a lovely pink. “Technically, it was me and Karin and mom.”

Sasuke sighs. He knows what he has to ask next. 

“What happened?”

_Damn he's getting tired of saying those words._

Naruto looks back at him, blue eyes searching for something in Sasuke’s own.

“What do you remember?”

Sasuke frowns, brow wrinkling as he strains to recall what happened.

His eyes wrench open in shock, the hazy memories flooding back to him.

“I fought Pein, and I lost. Two of his copies jammed metal poles into my arm and back, and Pein raised his foot up above my head. He brought it down, and that’s all. Lights out.”

Naruto nods emphatically, unphased by Sasuke’s blunt words. “Sakura found you first, and Karin, my mom, and I showed up soon afterwards.”

Sakura was the one who found him? She didn’t mention an encounter with the Uzumakis, and certainly not with Pein. Perhaps Pein was already gone by the time she found his...corpse.

Naruto entwines his hands, every inch of his posture conveying a twitchiness that makes Sasuke’s own senses jumpy.

“She kinda lost it. You should have seen her over that pile of rubble, Sasuke. She was shattering the ground as hard as any one of Pein’s earth jutsu attacks. I don’t know how long she was there before we ran into her, but she was holding her own against Pein. The Leader of the Akatsuki, possessor of the fucking Rinnegan, and there Sakura was, taking him on with just her fists and pure spite.”

There’s a fondness in Naruto’s voice that feels oh-so-similar to the warmth in Sasuke’s gut. It’s easy to forget that Naruto is Sakura’s friend too. The three of them were thick as thieves for years and years, before life got busy and complicated.

“When we finally pulled her away, she was a screaming, incoherent mess. We—” Naruto stutters, struggling with his words in a way that’s too confusing to comprehend, “—I didn’t know what happened to you. Not yet, anyways.”

Sasuke doesn’t want to—can’t—contemplate the implications of that statement. “So you fought Pein?”

There’s long sigh and pause as Naruto considers his words. “Yes. All three of us fought Pein.”

He smiles, too bitter for his usual optimism. “Pein was working off of old information. He thought Uzumaki Kushina was still the Jinchuuriki. And when he finally realized she wasn’t, he tossed her and Karin aside like ragdolls.”

Sasuke remembers the feeling all too easily. He notes the uselessness of bloodline limits—both the Sharingan and Uzumaki Chains—on the Rinnegan, storing the information away for further potential use.

“He wanted to trick me. Get me riled up, enough to let the Nine Tails out, so that he could extract it.”

Sasuke imagines the burning heat of Kurama in Naruto’s mind, how the demon’s frame completely dwarfed his own. He cannot fathom what that kind of power would look like in the real world.

“Did it work?” 

Sasuke asks, but he is afraid of the answer. 

Naruto looks away.

“Yes. He taunted me. Everything you told me that night, and more.”

Sasuke feels a hot flush of guilt across his face.

“He picked out all my insecurities and gave them a voice.”

Sasuke thinks of his brother, so casually name dropped by Pein. Like they were still drinking buddies or something, a perfect pair of mass murders.

“But I didn’t crack. Or, I didn’t crack till he told me what he did to you.”

Sasuke’s jaw drops open, but Naruto doesn’t notice. His deep blue eyes are fixed on some imaginary point on the carpet, a thousand times more interesting than his ex-boyfriend and best friend of five years.

“It was the worst slip-up I’ve ever had. Worse than any of those times at the orphanage, ten thousand times worse than the time last year when I got into an argument with my elders. Kurama practically separated his soul from my own, and I was angry enough to let him.”

Sasuke knows that can’t be it. The story doesn’t end there, because Sasuke’s beating heart is enough to prove otherwise.

“What stopped you?”

No, that’s not the wording Sasuke wants. Too accusatory.

“What stopped Pein from extracting Kurama?”

Naruto’s fists are clenched tight, white gathering at the knuckles where his blood circulation is cut off. 

“My mom. I didn’t see her until it already happened, but she jumped in front of the jutsu meant for me. It must have severed her soul from her very body, because she dropped like a bag of weights.”

No one should have to watch their mother die firsthand. Sasuke knows this better than anyone.

“I didn’t know that she loved me like that. Years of rejection, of humiliation, and I really thought she didn’t care about me. I thought I was the living reminder of everything she hated—a love that could never be. A long-dead family. A demon she tried so hard to purge from herself.”

Naruto looks up at Sasuke, and there is something in his eyes that Sasuke has never seen there before.

_Love. Unfiltered by shame or fear or masks._

“After that, I just...snapped out of it. I clutched my mom’s body to my chest and I cried. And Pein stood by and watched.”

He had done the same thing for Sasuke, their fight filled with more stillness than movement. Even his parting words and touch were tender, despite Pein’s cruel intent.

“And when I was done crying, I talked.”

Sasuke isn’t surprised. They used to joke that Naruto could convince the Fire Daimyo to shave his head and go naked, given enough words and enough time.

“What did you talk about?”

“Everything. I talked about my childhood, about my family history and how I came to be the container for the Nine Tails. I talked about all my fears, and how they play into my family and friend’s expectations for my future.”

Naruto leans forward, starting to reach for Sasuke’s hand. He stops last minute, clearly thinking better of the action.

“I talked about you.”

“Oh,” Sasuke breathes. 

He isn’t surprised, but the words sit oddly in his head.

“I don’t know,” Naruto admits, looking away from Sasuke after the uncomfortable admission. “I figured that if I was going to die, I might as well get everything off my chest. I’d already lost so much, and I figured all the masks and secrets might as well go too.”

A death row confessional, of a sort.

“And then?”

Naruto face shifts, his brows tilting downward in what Sasuke can only assume is sadness. 

“He listened. He listened to what I said, and when it was all said and done—when I ran out of words—he talked about himself.”

“What did he say?”

“A lot, and surprisingly little. He told me he was an Uzumaki by blood, paralyzed below the waist. He was a victim of the Second Shinobi War, like most civilians of Amegakure. He told me more, too. All sorts of things about Akatsuki and his childhood and the powers of the Rinnegan, but I didn’t care about any of that.”

Of course Naruto wouldn’t. This is the boy who devoted weeks to nursing a baby bird back to health, all because he thought it was the “right thing to do.” Sympathizing with his would-be murderer isn’t a skill outside of Naruto’s expertise.

“And then?”

“And then he used the Samsara of Heavenly Life, and brought everyone he had killed in the past twenty-four hours back to life.”

“He gave his own life, for all of ours? After all the killing, he just… changed his mind?”

“Yeah. He did.”

Sasuke’s heart beats loud in his ears, his brain struggling to understand.

“Why?”

Naruto smiles, a small thing that curls up at the edges and dimples his cheeks ever-so slightly.

“Because he saw himself in me. Because he thought that I might have a chance at making things better, if only I had a second chance.”

The Naruto of a few weeks ago would have said something silly, something with an air of attitude and poise, placing himself above Sasuke with careless intent. 

_Because I’m just that convincing_ , Naruto would sing-song jokingly.

Or _because I’m right_ , he would state with flat, irrevocable determination.

The Naruto before him doesn’t say those things, though. He answers honestly and plainly, no jazzed-up details or over-the-top performances in sight.

“I guess that’s why I’m here,” Naruto continues, face flushing with an embarrassment Sasuke doesn’t understand. “I want a second chance.”

Sasuke feels faint. 

It must be the whole-being reincarnated thing. Surely Sasuke’s dehydrated, or still a bit concussed, or straight-up dreaming. It’s been a wild couple of days, and there’s no way in hell that Uzumaki Naruto suggested the two of them get back together.

“Not like that!” Naruto corrects, flapping his hands in front of him like an ugly duckling. 

Sasuke feels...relieved?

“I want to say I’m sorry. For all those years of treating you like you didn’t matter, for using you as entertainment for my own childish insecurities. I shouldn’t have said those mean things about your family, either. It was wrong and insensitive.”

“I’m sorry I used the Sharingan on you,” Sasuke stutters. “I’m sorry I called you a coward when you’re clearly not, and for lumping the same unhealthy expectations on you as everybody else. I should have recognized that my dependence on you was bad for us both.”

He's breathless from the word-vomit that just came out of him. It was unexpected, to hear those words from Naruto’s own mouth, and to get to voice the thoughts he’d been struggling with for over a week now.

Naruto looks at him, cheeks a bit red and blue eyes sparkling. He looks happy, no ruffles or frills attached.

Extending a hand towards Sasuke, his smile grows wider, his face lighter like a weight has been lifted. Sasuke can’t help but smile back.

“I think maybe we should do some reintroductions. I’m Uzumaki Naruto.”

Sasuke takes Naruto’s hand in his own, shaking up and down in a way that isn’t quite professional but not quite goofy either.

“Uchiha Sasuke.”

He gets the feeling that this newfound friendship is going to last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for not responding to last week's comments. I read over each one multiple times (I always do) but was so busy writing this chapter that I forgot to respond. Rest assured, all of your kind words and wonderful insight makes me so, so happy and really pushes me to continue with this story. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
> 
> In other news, we've reached the halfway point of the story! Hooray!! I'm going to try keeping up with the weekly updates, but depending on length and content, it might take me more time to get them up. I'm starting a part-time job next week, and combined with my schoolwork and other creative projects, this writing endeavor might get pushed aside for other, more pressing things. That being said, I am already thinking about doing a few more one-shots after Waiting for Sunset is finished, more along the lines of A Dozen White Peonies and possibly as long as Strangers at the Gates. I'm really open, so if you have any requests for characters/places/events that you want me to explore in this AU, drop them down below!


	8. Tear It Down, Try Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little something short for this cold monday evening

Sasuke hefts a bag of bricks onto the push cart with a loud grunt, turning back around expectantly to receive his next orders.

“Take them to Sector Seven,” the old woman behind the cheap fold up table says. “Satoshi will know what to do from there.”

Sasuke opens his mouth to ask where Sector Seven is, but the woman is already turned back to her clipboard, directing the people in line behind Sasuke.

This is the third time today he’s needed to ask for further clarification, and he’d prefer not to get scolded by an organizer again. Besides, he can’t even remember the woman’s name.

Squinting up at the sun, Sasuke almost wishes Pein hadn’t resurrected him. Being six feet under is just about the only thing that would have spared him from manual labor.

The entire village has been in full-on rebuilding mode in the past two weeks since Pein’s attack. Just about all of downtown was destroyed in the attack, and the citywide infrastructure was completely obliterated. Even on the very edges of town, it took them four days to get the power grid back up and running. Plumbing is out of the question right now, with all of Konoha relying on the nearby streams and rivers for fresh water. 

Sasuke, along with about one-third of Konoha’s population, is homeless. They’ve been camping out in semi-permanent tents, and while sleeping under the stars has been a fun experience, it’s starting to lose its novelty. There’s always the option of sleeping back at the compound, nestled safely on the outskirts of Konoha, but it’s been closed for twelve years now.

To sleep in the same spot his clan was murdered would feel wrong. Even with all the sick and injured, it would be disrespectful to disturb the resting places of Sasuke’s family—not when he and so many other Konoha civilians were given a second chance at life where his clan wasn’t.

Besides, the sheer amount of dust in the compound and its potential for respiratory problems far outweighs the benefits of temporary shelter. 

Housing isn’t the only pressing issue Konoha faces. Plenty of administrative buildings, historical sites, and local businesses are in shambles, near-impossible to pick out among the two-story high piles of rubble that once made up the shopping district. 

To see how close Konoha came to being completely wiped off the map, one only needs to look as far as Hokage Tower, lined with caution tape and dwarfed by its temporary scaffolding. Or Founder’s Park, where the beautiful grassy lawns and flower fields are marred by deep scars, fissures in the earth that run 15 feet long and three feet deep, like trench warfare was conducted there. Even the main facade of the central public library has been torn away, leaving scholars and Shinobi alike scrambling to excavate every old book and forbidden scroll that lays hidden beneath the stone and ironwork.

That’s not to say that all hope has been lost—Konoha has rallied together in the face of this tragedy, and at the pace rebuilding efforts are going at, no one will know the wreckage that occurred here in three months’ time. 

It’s truly an all-hands-on-deck affair, with everyone down from the smallest child to the most-seasoned Shinobi getting their hands dirty in the construction process. Shinobi like Sasuke have been giving the heavy-lifting work, acting as the “muscle” for the handier civilians. 

But it’s not just contractors and electricians and painters pulling their weight. The Yondaime has made incredible use of his teleportation jutsu, transporting large objects across town in seconds—a process that would only otherwise be possible through perfectly maintained roads and working construction vehicles. Sakura’s become a favorite among the contractors, her chakra-enhanced strength perfect for demolishing unsalvageable structures. She’s always in high demand, between that and tending to the injured population.

Even the desk workers from the Hokage’s office are stepping up, lending their organization skills to the rebuilding efforts with a brutal efficiency that makes Sasuke glad Pein didn’t try to do any recruiting when he invaded.

He studies the woman at the fold up table before him, feeling uneasy about what sort of combat capabilities might be lying underneath her horn-rimmed glasses and the beaded necklace attached to the frames. She is one such office worker, and while her ability to organize and delegate is invaluable, Sasuke doesn’t understand what she’s saying.

He’ll have to go up and ask for further clarification on the location of Sector Seven, because he only knows the town by neighborhood, rather than official bureaucratic districting. Interrupting to ask will mess up her current schedule, and she’ll probably start assigning him even more difficult jobs out of spite.

Still, somewhere out in Konoha, someone is waiting for the pile of bricks Sasuke’s carting around. He’s just gonna have to bite the bullet and get his ass handed to him. For the good of Konoha.

He takes one shaky step forward, and there’s a gentle tap on his shoulder.

Whirling around, he comes face-to-face with a small woman, brilliant red hair tied back in a high ponytail.

“Need some directions?” 

“Um. Yeah, actually.”

“As luck would have it,” Uzumaki Kushina smiles, gesturing to the two large buckets of mortar she’s holding at her sides, “I’m also going to Sector Seven.”

And just like that, they’re off.

\----

They make pleasant small talk for a while, picking their way across the rubble and to the shopping district, where Sector Seven is located. 

He imagines they must look like quite the pair, with Sasuke and his tall, brooding outline against Kushina’s small, fiery demeanour.

“It’s a shame about the library,” Sasuke notes, passing by it and the bespectacled academics that flitter about like flies. 

Kushina gazes at the cobblestone square and various tents filled with stacks and stacks of books. 

“Yes,” she agrees, tone filled with something past solemnness. “It was always one of my favorite places in town. Minato and I used to pour over the old scrolls on weekends.”

Sasuke looks away, feeling oddly voyeuristic in the face of Kushina’s nostalgia and clear affections.

She seems to pick up on it, because she changes the topic with a gentle push.

“Would I be wrong in assuming you also had some fond memories of the library?”

Sasuke laughs. “That’s putting it lightly. Sakura and I would spend hours in here, gossiping and studying in equal amounts. When our debates about books would get too loud—and they always did—the head librarian would toss us out the door and down the front steps by the scruff of our necks.”

 _We would debate about the semantics of the Uzushio culture_ , Sasuke doesn’t say, not wanting to come on as too obsessive.

Luckily, Kushina doesn’t realize he’s glossing over certain details, because she asks another question.

“So you were an avid reader! I’ve heard, from Kakashi and Obito, that Team Seven always was a bit too clever for their own good. Have you ever considered pursuing a higher education?”

Sasuke flushes, the question all too similar to some of Obito’s unspoken desires. 

“No, Kushina-san. I’m pretty dead set on life as a career Shinobi.”

 _I’ll probably die in the line of duty before I ever get the chance to enroll,_ he thinks.

Distracted by his dark thoughts, Sasuke doesn’t notice Kushina slipping one of the mortar buckets into the crook of her elbow, freeing her hand in the process.

She reaches up, quicker than Sasuke would expect from a mostly-retired Shinobi, and musses his hair with a practiced affection.

He stands there and takes it, too confused to protest.

When she’s finally done, she flashes him a sunny smile. “Perhaps the University of Suna would treat you better. A handsome and dynamic young man like yourself would be lost on the stuffy professors of Konoha’s intellectual elite.”

“I’ll consider it, Kushina-san,” Sasuke strangles out, too flabbergasted to say anything else.

Kushina skips on ahead like she’s won a damn argument or something. It’s easy to see where Naruto gets that behavior from.

Poking at his hair, Sasuke tries to pick apart what the hell just happened. With a dawning horror, he realizes that Kushina just mother-henned him.

Fifteen-year-old Sasuke would be jumping up and down in joy right now. For as many years as he had a crush on Naruto, Sasuke considered his family to be one of the best bonuses of their “destined for the stars” relationship. The sky was blue, the trees were green, and Uzumaki Kushina would someday be his mother-in-law.

A younger Sasuke would take this as a sure sign that his little romance was meant to be. Gentle nagging from Naruto’s own mom was surely a sign of her unspoken approval for their courtship. 

But Sasuke is older, and a few years wiser now. Incredible diplomat and powerful matriarch Kushina may be, she is as fallible as any other human. He can see how she pulled the strings of the conversation to her benefit, getting Sasuke to agree to her perspective without ever letting him voice his actual thoughts on the matter.

He can see how this would work on someone like Naruto at a young age, so desperate for his wayward mother’s approval. How over time, Naruto would just lie down and take it, and his mother would continue on in the same path, ignorant of her own son’s discomfort and unhappiness. How Naruto would use these same tactics on others, like Sasuke, unintentionally, because it was all he had ever been taught to do.

Sasuke can only hope Pein’s attack has changed something. Perhaps Naruto and Kushina have had some long talks deep into the night already, working out their problems before they can rear their ugly head in another surprise attack on Konoha.

He angles his head towards Kushina, the way she picks her way through the rubble with the grace of a Hyuuga Shinobi, the way she sets her shoulders back like a Sarutobi, and the way she angles her neck just so like Tsunade, last of the Senju.

From their childhood onwards, Naruto was under a lot of pressure. How must Kushina feel?

Sasuke clears his throat, trying to grab her attention without being too obvious.

“How has everything been?”

Kushin blinks back, blank-faced. 

“Since Pein’s attack,” he clarifies.

God, he’s bad at this whole “comforting people” thing.

Kushina cocks her head, considering the question.

“It’s different.”

Sasuke gestures to the rubble around them, realizing a second too late that his humor may come off as too rude and sarcastic.

It seems Kushina likes it, because she laughs, light and short.

“I don’t mean it like that. I mean the personal things. Naruto has really been stepping out of his shell lately, and I think he’s happier for it.”

Sasuke nods along. He’s seen similar behavior from Obito too many times to count, with all the wallet pictures of Sasuke and the constant bragging to his drinking buddies.

It makes training with older Jounin an absolute bitch for Sasuke, but getting his teeth kicked in is almost outweighed by the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest, knowing that there's someone out there who loves him so fully and deeply.

“That makes sense. It was him who changed Pein’s mind, after all.”

A slight frown pulls at Kushina’s face, deepening the lines around her mouth that come with gentle aging.

“That’s certainly part of it. Naruto was not doing so great, before this whole attack. I heard that you and him stopped talking, and Akatsuki couldn’t have chosen a worse time to become active.”

Sasuke feels a twinge of guilt. He doesn’t know how much Kushina knows of what transpired between the two of them. He’s certainly not going to say any more, for fear or revealing too much.

“And what about being Konoha’s first publicly known Jinchuuriki since Mito-sama herself? Is Naruto taking that okay?”

“It’s strange,” Kushina says with a small wrinkle in her brow. “I can’t possibly know how it feels for Naruto, since so few people knew that I was the Jinchuuriki for my entire childhood. Even our seals are different—I can only recall that insidious voice in my head, and that foreign anger burning in my gut. But Naruto? I can’t possibly know the toll the Nine Tails takes on him. I’m one of the only people in the world well-qualified enough to guide him, yet our experiences might be completely alien to one another.”

She shakes her head, lost in thought over a problem that Sasuke doesn’t have the understanding or ability to solve.

He thinks of Obito and Kakashi, and the way they hovered around him after the massacre. Uchihas in blood and ability, but not in name. They might as well have been completely unrelated, for all the similarities they had to a six-year-old Sasuke.

“Well, I think you did a pretty good job of raising him,” Sasuke comments, giving Kushina his friendliest, old-lady-cheek-pinching grin. “Townspeople are already calling him the ‘Savior of Konoha.’”

Kushina huffs, looking away towards the distant Hokage Tower.

“I am proud,” she admits voice soft, “but there’s this small part of me that can’t help but wonder. Naruto saved Konoha, but the attack was our fault in the first place.”

Sasuke doesn’t comment. 

“Pein was of Uzumaki blood. He came here for us, for our Jinchuuriki legacy, as our own descendant, and destroyed half of Konoha in the process.”

She looks Sasuke in the eyes, gray on black and filled with a lifetime of pain Sasuke can’t hope to understand.

He wants to argue with her. He wants to tell her about all the wars the Uzumakis have stopped on behalf of Konoha, of all the sick children they saved with their humanitarian efforts, of every local business owner who’s benefitted from their more favorable trade and travel agreements with other countries.

But he knows his words won’t matter. Kushina has been wrestling with these demons far longer than Sasuke ever knew they existed.

“This came so close to becoming another Uzushio. I don’t think I could survive, with that on my shoulders.”

He nods. If Itachi were to come back tomorrow, just to slit Obito’s throat, Sasuke doesn’t know what he would do. 

Surviving is often harder than the alternative.

“Sasuke,” she starts, voice softer than he’s used to from the Uzumakis, “Did you...did you see anything? When you were gone?”

Sasuke thinks back.

He thinks back to the moment Pein’s heel came crashing down on his head, to the moment he woke in that small tent under the morning sun.

In his last moments, Sasuke had imagined a beautiful set of stars, dotting every square inch of the sky in color and one trillion possibilities. 

But beyond that, there is nothing. 

A blank space where his consciousness should be.

No line of honorable warriors, of ancient Samurai and warring chieftains and the first three Hokages. 

No baby cousins and crazy aunts. No curmudgeonly elders or battle-hardened great uncles. His father’s stern handshake and mother’s warm hugs were nowhere to be found.

“No,” he admits. “I didn’t see them.”

Kushina sighs, not quite heavy enough to be a sob.

“Me neither.”

\----

The sun is hanging low in the sky by the time Sasuke is let off for his “lunch break.” They’ve been working the Shinobi for longer hours, having them do harder jobs with less resting time in between. Sasuke finds he doesn’t mind too much. 

He can appreciate the efficiency of Konoha’s rebuilding efforts, by using the most physically fit people in town to do the harder jobs. A part of him is grateful he’s constantly in motion, too exhausted to dwell on the emotional whirlwind that these past few weeks have been. As Obito used to tell him, idle hands are the devil’s tools.

Sasuke finds himself walking through a partially restored section of downtown, eyeing the people working in afternoon shifts.

Much of the work here is more specific than laying bricks and smearing molding into place. Sasuke spots an older woman and three young men with her same nose fitting windows to a small storefront, and two buildings down, a plumber and electrician bickering over the mess of wires and pipes attached to the building’s facade in front of them.

Sasuke picks up his pace, afraid he might get pulled over and drawn into more construction drama. He can’t believe he thought Sakura and Ino were bad, when these contractors argue about tiles patterns and floor plans like the whole world is at stake.

Taking a sharp left down a half-cobblestoned street, Sasuke comes across a strange sight.

A cluster of large concrete buildings, overshadowed by the Hokage Monument behind them.

The multi-story buildings are finished, but look surprisingly blank, with no external details or large, clean windows like the rest of the expensive apartments in this area.

A pack of children no taller than Sasuke’s hip walk by, and he realizes exactly what he’s looking at.

Even against the scaffolding-covered Konoha skyline, the subsidized homes for orphaned children look bleak.

Sasuke hasn’t been here since he was a young Genin on Team Seven, accompanying Sai home after a long day of practice. He remembers being intimidated by the dark stone walls that rose up into the sky like tombstones, the endless background chatter of kids too rowdy and too young to be living on their own.

He knows that Kakashi grew up in these same apartments, until the moment he was aged out and resorted to crashing Obito’s bed.

Sasuke himself was almost a resident of these homes, if not for Obito's sudden appearance in his life.

He’s heard stories though, from fellow schoolmates and Kakashi on occasion. The pipes were always broken, and hot water was practically unheard of. The mattresses were donated from local manufacturers on account of them being defects, and it was not uncommon for a resident to go to sleep one night and wake up the next morning unable to walk from crippling back pain. Sai once told him the rats that ran freely through the walls were the size of Sasuke’s head, and Sasuke believed him.

The poor quality of these subsidized homes, the inappropriate treatment of Konoha’s orphans—Sasuke knows the issue like the back of his hand.

It was a source of constant consternation for Naruto. He was angry, and righteously so. 

_Our hidden villages trade in wars and bloodshed,_ he had told Sasuke with fire in his eyes. _And when it comes to the orphaned children—the very byproduct of our profitability and success—we cast them aside like they’re trash._

Or, at least, until they can be fed into the military industrial complex themselves.

When Sasuke asked why he couldn’t petition the Hokage for better living quarters, Naruto’s expression went downright feral.

He explained, through gritted teeth, that the funding for Konoha’s infrastructure—roads, healthcare, and even subsidized homes—were controlled by the Fire Daimyo, with input from Konoha’s Council of Elders.

The Yondaime, an orphan himself, was virtually useless.

Sasuke had stopped asking questions after that, worried he’d set Naruto off further. To talk politics with the boy was like lighting a fuse and waiting for the explosion.

Snapping his gaze away from the brutalist architecture of the buildings in front of him, Sasuke spots a commotion at the end of the road.

As he gets nearer and nearer, he realizes it's another horde of children, gap-toothed and gangly in the way pre-Genin kids seem to be. They’re huddled in a circle around something Sasuke can’t quite pick out.

He draws closer, too curious to turn back now.

“Do a lion!”

“No! Do a pirate!!”

“Shut up! I want a butterfly!”

Sasuke hears some muffled agreement, and a few seconds later, a shape rises up above the heads of the clustered children.

True to the child’s words, it is a butterfly.

The size alone, as long and three times as wide as Sasuke’s torso is enough to let him know that this is no normal butterfly. It catches the light strangely with its ornate lavender wings, and when it flaps its wings, floating higher into the air, Sasuke realizes that it is two dimensional, almost as if it were an image on paper, come to life.

He’s seen the trick too many times before not to recognize it now.

“Sai?” 

True to form, a dark head of hair pokes up from the swarm of children, and those vacant eyes meet Sasuke’s own.

“Sasuke.” He turns to the children, who are glancing back and forth from the butterfly and Sasuke. 

“What are you still doing here? Whoever can catch the butterfly gets to pick the next drawing.” He waves his hand towards the butterfly, now lazily flapping down the street. Like a switch flipped, the children take off in a mad dash. 

Sai rolls his scroll back up and pockets his brush. He stands up and wipes off his pants before approaching Sasuke. 

“Do they know that thing is made of paint?”

Sai nods, something like trouble in his eyes.

“Do they know what happens when you try to destroy one of them?”

Sai doesn’t laugh, but his smile grows a bit wider. “Who can blame me for forgetting to tell them? I was distracted by the appearance of my former teammate.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes. He has one too many memories of dried paint in his hair and completely ruined t-shirts to laugh at Sai’s idea of a prank. He and Sakura used to flip a coin on who had to spar Sai for the day, neither eager to face his ink creations. 

“I’m sure our superiors will be glad to know that all of Konoha’s orphans had fun playing with paint when we still don’t have running water.”

Sai points to the apartments to his left. “They’ve actually got all interior functions up and running in the subsidized housing.”

Sasuke’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“Really? I’d have thought they might save that for last, considering how much of downtown is unfinished.”

It’s more than downtown, though. The wealthy businessmen and clan heads of Konoha like to cause a fuss about these matters when their interests aren’t prioritized. And he knows for a fact, just from hearing all the chatter these past two weeks, that the Hyuuga Compound has no running water.

“I might have flirted with a few of the Hokage’s secretaries, when they were first finalizing a construction schedule.”

Sasuke can’t imagine that. He doesn’t want to. Sai has two settings, and those are robot or stalker—the subtlety for flirting is completely lost on him. And he doesn’t exactly have the round, rosy cheeks those scary old ladies love to pinch. 

“Who helped you?” Sasuke asks, immediately skeptical of Sai’s explanation.

Sai looks down at his feet, a practiced display of shame.

“...Ino.”

Sasuke laughs. Of course Ino would take on the most hopeless cause in Konoha, behind only himself. He can imagine her now, very carefully coaching Sai on how to charm older women. 

Only, he can’t quite figure out why. Priority on orphanages means less focus on her own upscale neighborhood, and Ino certainly isn’t selfless enough to give up a daily, warm shower out of the goodness of her heart.

“What did she get in return?”

Sai looks at Sasuke, something in his eyes making Sasuke shiver with fear.

“In Ino’s words, I have _‘the ass of a supermodel-turned-angel, but ten times as juicy.”_

Sasuke smacks his forehead so hard the noise echoes down the street. He doesn’t mind Sai’s dubious fashion choices, with all the leather pants and crop tops and very...small training shorts. 

But damn if Ino’s words aren’t going to be stuck in his head for the rest of Sasuke’s miserable life.

Sai barely notices, pivoting the conversation towards Sasuke with an air of smugness.

“And why are you here? I didn’t see your name assigned to this area on any of the construction plans.”

Sasuke takes a few calming breaths before speaking.

“I’m on a lunch break.”

Sai looks up to the sky, where the sun is slowly falling behind the towering apartments.

“It’s a bit late for lunch,” he comments mildly.

“Yes,” Sasuke replies through gritted teeth. “It is.”

Down the road, Sasuke can hear children screaming, the horror and delight in their voices indistinguishable. They must’ve caught the butterfly.

Sai turns his head too, listening in on the distant scene before turning back to Sasuke.

“The kids will be back soon,” he offers, like Sasuke couldn’t figure that out for himself. “If you want to get some food, I’d recommend you head out now.”

Sasuke sighs, walking past Sai and in back in the direction he came from—the same direction the screaming is coming from.

“It was nice seeing you, Sai,” he calls over his shoulder, though he can’t say he means it with complete honesty.

“You too, Sasuke.” 

There’s a pause, filled only by the sound of Sasuke’s footsteps on gravel.

“I’m sure Ino feels the same way about your ass. It looks great from behind.”

If Sasuke picks up his pace after that, well, that’s his own business.

\----

About two blocks down from the subsidized homes, a horde of familiar and purple-tinged children go sprinting past Sasuke, presumably back towards Sai.

Sasuke tries to squeeze past them and is rewarded with minimal paint stains on his pants for his efforts.

Here, on this block, the sun is setting directly in his eyes, and Sasuke can’t quite make out his surroundings without a lot of squinting and black spots in his vision.

Which is why he doesn’t stop walking until he nearly runs into a familiar figure.

Stumbling against steady hands, Sasuke pivots around, a curse on the edge of his tongue. 

And he comes face to face with Naruto.

“Naruto?”

Naruto looks a bit confused, nodding at Sasuke before his eyes trail off down the road.

“Hey Sasuke—have you seen Sai anywhere? He was supposed to be watching the kids before I got here, but I found them screaming and covered in paint.”

Sasuke points down the street. 

“Follow the kids, and they’ll lead you back to Sai. He and I had a friendly chat.”

Naruto smiles at Sasuke’s emphasis on the word friendly. “Talking to Sai can be...trying. But he means well. If it wasn’t for Sai, I wouldn’t be pushing the orphanage issue with the Council of Elders.”

Sasuke raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

Naruto’s eyes look over Sasuke’s shoulder, in the direction of the kids before snapping back to Sasuke. 

“Well, right after they were establishing the construction plan for Konoha, Sai approached me about a community problem.”

“Subsidized housing,” Sasuke offers.

Naruto nods fervently. “You know how bad it is—we all do. And Sai saw the reconstruction as a great opportunity to try to improve the living standards here.”

“What did he ask you about?”

“Better funding, of course.” Naruto seems distant for a moment, bogged down by a thousand ideas and concerns Sasuke will never know about. “It’s an issue I tried to push a few years back.”

“I remember.”

“Yeah,” Naruto exhales. “It didn’t go over so well. But Sai was so hopeful, and he went through all the effort of charming my dad’s secretaries. I couldn’t just ignore the question.”

Sasuke’s surprised to hear him acknowledging his father so openly. He barely even perceives the Hokage as Naruto’s dad, the way Naruto usually avoids mentioning him in any personal context. He wonders if they eat meals together, the way he and Obito and Kakashi often do after missions and in the mornings. Or maybe, since the Pein’s attack, if they’ve been working on it.

“And?”

“And when I took up the issue with the council, they agreed.”

Sasuke whistles. He can’t say he’s surprised, though.

“Makes sense, with you being the Jinchuuriki and all. Even a couple of persnickety, wrinkled Shinobi can’t deny the “Hero of Konoha.”

Naruto flushes, his skin pretty under the golden hour lighting. 

Sasuke tamps down on the feeling of butterflies in his chest. The is not the time for Sai’s paintings, or inappropriate, _more-than-friends_ emotions.

“I guess so,” Naruto admits. There’s something different in his tone, the self-deprecating or excessively prideful edge gone. He seems...comfortable. Happy.

“Anyways,” Naruto continues, “I got some better amenities for the kids. Sai and I are gonna enlist them for repainting the buildings however they want, in order to make them look less…”

“Tombstone-y,” Sasuke finishes.

“Yeah.”

He pauses for a moment, and sighs.

“I still don’t think we should be sending children as young as seven to live by themselves. We certainly shouldn’t be recruiting them into our Shinobi Academies at the same time, without legal guardians or any sort of support systems in place. But making sure these houses aren’t rat-infested is a start.”

Naruto trails off, something sad and distant in his expression. Sasuke would tell him he can’t save them all, that he doesn’t have to suffer so much for the common good, but it wouldn’t make a difference. 

Besides, that unyielding love is what Sasuke admires most about Naruto.

He wonders how it must have felt, to grow up as an orphan, only to discover he was a part of one of the most powerful clans in the entire world. The modern equivalent of that old childhood story, of the princess with the glass sandals.

He never took Sasuke to his house, but Sasuke had been on school field trips to Mito’s Manor, before they closed it to the public so the Uzumakis could move back in. All dark wood and empty hallways and ghosts of a past long forgotten—how could a child as bright and fiery as Naruto have grown up there?

It reminds him of his own family’s hallowed grounds. Undisturbed for over a decade now, to the point that Sasuke might not even recognize it. There is a deed to the place in his name, signed by his own family’s bloodshed, but the reality of the situation is that Sasuke will never make use of those acres of land. 

He won’t touch it, because in his mind, every house is still occupied. His father’s brothers, and their wives, and their children. Great aunts and uncles and Uchiha elders so old, they must’ve known the first Hokage personally. Cousin Shisui, who Itachi liked to follow around like his own big brother. 

Obito, who was a part of the family up until he wasn’t. 

An idea sparks in his head.

“Naruto,” he says, words in his head wrapping around the idea like a whirlpool, “what if there was another solution, to the orphan problem?”

Naruto shakes his head, his voice gentle. “Sasuke, I’ve tried, but civilians just don’t want to adopt the children of Shinobi. There are deep seated prejudices there, and even when there aren’t, most people can’t afford the burdens of caring for another child.”

“No, not that,” Sasuke fires back, voice rushed with an eagerness. “You told me about the fostering system they use in Suna, where kids are placed with guardians instead of being left on the streets.”

Naruto frowns. “Yes, but who would foster them here? On paper, it's the same thing as adoption. Even if we subsidized the hell out of a foster system, people still wouldn’t go for it.”

Sasuke grabs Naruto’s shoulders tight, forcing him to look eye-to-eye.

“Not civilians, Naruto. Clans.”

“Clans?”

“Yes! They’re practically designed as internal support systems anyways. Clans have tons of money, and lots of housing available—would it really be so hard to match up kids with, say, a civilian in a branch house of a major clan like the Akimichis or Inuzukas?”

Naruto’s face lights up.

“The majority of Konoha’s clans, beyond the main house, are barely related by blood anyways. It’s all marriages and fourth cousins.” 

He pauses for a moment to consider the idea further. 

“The concept of taking in outsiders might be a difficult to swing—but these are the kids of Shinobi, descendants of those who were brave enough to give their life in the line of duty. Beyond the Hyuuga, I doubt any clan could argue with that. Their civilian branches certainly wouldn’t, and they’d be more sympathetic to the cause, since they’re already familiar with the Shinobi career path.”

Sasuke’s grinning, but more than that, Naruto is grinning right back.

“Sasuke,” he says, seriousness conveyed in every inch of his body, from his straight shoulders to head held high. “You are an honest-to-god genius.”

Sasuke smirks, hoping he’s nailing the bad boy look Ino and Sakura used to tease him about.

“I know.”

Naruto hits him, light and playful, and another whoosh of butterflies in Sasuke’s stomach makes him wonder if this is acceptable behavior for friends.

“I have to go, but I’m going to keep workshopping your idea. I might even be able to propose it in front of the Council and Clan Heads by next week.”

Sasuke wonders just when Naruto got so good at listening, the way he’s always been good at talking.

But then, Naruto is reaching up, his face getting closer and closer to Sasuke’s own.

The kiss is so short, and only on Sasuke’s cheek, and as a result, he doesn’t even realize what happened until Naruto is sprinting off down the street, probably eager to tell Sai about the idea.

Sasuke touches his cheek, still warm from Naruto lips and knows that _no, that’s certainly not how friends should be behaving._

He doesn’t linger on the thought too long, because all this talk of orphans and clans has got him thinking about his own family. 

Sasuke bets that by the time he makes it back to camp, Obito will be waiting with some terrible, fire-warmed, canned dinner ready-to-go. 

And Sasuke can’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week, another chapter. I needed the break before I dive back into a long, plot-filled update. Side note: I keep on mispelling Obito's name as "Obitio" because I guess my brain wants to insist that he's uncle material. haha.


	9. A Match, Some Kindling, A Trail of Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update...I started a new job and wrote like four essays and got sick. But this chapter is 10k words? I can't decide if that's good or bad.

After around a month of constant construction and rebuilding, and Konoha is starting to look like itself again.

From the outskirts of town and into the suburbs, no visitor would ever know that Konoha came so close to being completely leveled.

Downtown, where Sasuke lives, it's a different story—they’ve managed to get just about everyone back into their homes, though it's certainly not to the same standard it was earlier this year. 

Obito and Sasuke’s apartment is sparse, with unpainted walls and a not-quite-functioning kitchen. Most of their furniture was destroyed in the attack, so the living room is stuffed with tattered and mismatched couches Obito got from a yard sale two towns over.

It would upset Sasuke, if he was one to covet material possessions.

But besides a few discomforts here and there, Sasuke’s happy with the progress Konoha has made. He’s happy with the progress he’s made.

Case in point—the Shinobi missions desk just opened up two days ago, and Sasuke is already getting called in.

He sets out from his apartment to the other end of downtown, where the Hokage Tower rises above the other shops and apartments in the area.

The streets are flooded with fresh produce stalls and food stands, because the majority of brick-and-mortar shops aren’t yet approved for reopening. It feels like a different place entirely, so alien from Konoha’s traditional neat and grid-like layout. In fact, it reminds Sasuke more of the capital of Lightning Country, so full of life and chaos and color.

He can barely remember the specifics of the place, his whole travel experience there overshadowed by Akatsuki’s ambush and the subsequent fallout. 

He can’t recall the taste of the food he and Naruto ate from that “authentic” restaurant, but he can still feel Kurama’s breath hot on his cheek when the wind blows just right.

It’s funny, what the brain retains in times of crisis. Stranger still, that his Sharingan burns the worst memories into his brain like branding on cattle.

Sasuke tugs his flak vest down a little and palms at his hair to make sure it isn’t too mussed up from the afternoon wind.

He’s sure that his second Jounin mission will be better than the first.

It has to be.

\----

Someone is standing in front of the doors to the Hokage Tower’s main entrance.

Sasuke rolls his eyes in annoyance. He may not come to the central offices often, but nine times out of ten, he has to shove his way through waves of Fire Country tourists, here to gawk at the spectacle that is Konoha’s military force.

Civilians not from around these parts tend to romanticize Shinobi culture, caught up in the old folklore and legendary history. Sasuke himself has had one too many encounters with this sort of person, from various escort missions for the Fire Capital's elite to the airheaded families of visiting dignitaries. It grates on his nerves, to hear them swoon over tragic backstories and ripped physiques created from a lifetime of fighting and warfare.

He would point them to the somber monuments of the three Great Shinobi Wars, to the harmful marriage and sealing practices of old clans, to the underfed and uncared for orphans that run freely in the streets, but it’s not worth the effort. 

It’s not Sasuke’s job to educate the masses on the failings of the Shinobi system.

He shoves his way past the waiting tourist without a second glance backwards and pushes open the doors with an air of finality. 

The woman behind the front desk acknowledges him, holding up a finger for him to wait while she fills out some paperwork.

Behind him, a bell rings, signaling the opening of the front door.

Sasuke turns around with a half-hearted sense of curiosity and meets a familiar face.

Hyuuga Neji sizes Sasuke up, neither relaxed nor tense in the lines of his shoulders.

Sasuke realizes with a start that it was not some random tourist who was waiting out front, but his old rival.

He tips his head in greeting. 

“You must not come here too often, Neji. You were looking a bit lost outside.”

Naji’s placid expression flattens into something sharper, impassive only to the inexperienced eye. To Sasuke, he looks as if he’s practically vibrating with anger.

“I showed up early,” he replies, tone achingly steady. “And when I realized that I still had a while to go before my meeting, I elected to wait outside the premises. The Hokage is a very busy man, you know.”

Sasuke grits his teeth, ready to fire back when he’s interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

“If you two boys are done preening,” the receptionist calls out, “You may proceed upstairs. The Hokage’s secretaries will direct you from there.”

Sasuke turns to look back at Neji, but the other man is already striding past him towards the elevator.

He sighs, following behind in mild frustration. 

_Uchiha Sasuke, zero. Hyuuga Neji, one._

The elevator doors close with an air of finality, and the two are rocketing up the building.

“So,” Sasuke broaches the silence, “do you know why you’re here?”

“No. You?”

“...No.”

They drift back into uncomfortable silence.

Luckily, the elevator bell rings not too soon afterwards, and the box comes to a stop, opening up to the slightly dated waiting room for the Hokage’s office.

An old woman looks up from the dark wood desk, her sagged-in face and sharp smile somewhat familiar from the weeks of construction organization.

“Go right ahead. The Hokage is waiting for you.”

Sasuke and Neji bow their heads, whispering their thanks as they pass her down the hall.

The Hokage’s secretaries, without a doubt, are some of the most dangerous people to get on the bad side of in Konoha.

Sasuke and Neji reach the grand doors of the Hokage’s office at the same time, resting their hands on the right and left doorknobs respectively.

There’s a second of awkwardness before they both wrench open the doors on either side, neither willing to back down.

Light streams in from the Hokage’s office, shining through his large windows that look out over the rest of Konoha.

The Yondaime’s smiling face looks back at them, his golden hair and gentle expression framed by the sunlight like some sort of angelic figure.

It’s hard to imagine him on a battlefield, let alone as Konoha’s favorite war hero.

But appearances are deceiving. As are Shinobi.

There are two other figures in the room, their backs half-turned from Sasuke and Neji.

Sasuke could pick his own teammate’s profile out of a lineup of thousands, Sai’s signature leather pants reflecting the light in a way that makes Sasuke wonder how he’s not sweating bullets all hours of the day.

_Oh right_. He compensates by wearing half a shirt.

As much as Sasuke wants to blame these fashion choices on Ino’s invisible influence, he knows the awful truth. Sai’s been dressing this way from the tender age of twelve, with shirts small enough to properly fit a six-year-old.

The other figure is less familiar, if only because Sasuke hasn’t worked alongside them for five years counting.

Still, Shikamaru’s slumped over figure is hard to mistake.

Shadows gather along the back of his chair, pooling around Shikamaru’s legs in a way that doesn’t look quite natural.

Sasuke’s senses tingle at the effect, the complete absence of anything in those shadows eerily reminiscent of Pein’s Rinnegan-influenced jutsu.

Beside him, Neji shifts, pulling out a chair on the outer left side. He promptly sits down, and Sasuke feels a rush of envy at the way Neji can make something as simple as sitting look so dignified.

He beelines towards the right, throwing himself into the remaining chair with a little more force than necessary.

Sai is looking at him with that dumb fucking smile, which translates into human as laughing his ass off.

_At least Shikamaru doesn’t care_ , Sasuke tells himself.

Before them, the Hokage folds his hands across a fat stack of paperwork, his face slanting downward into something business appropriate.

“Thank you for taking the time to come in,” the Hokage starts. “I know these past few weeks have been trying for all of Konoha’s citizens.”

That’s putting it lightly.

“Which is why it pains me to ask this of you.”

The Hokage sighs, and for a second, he looks old. Like Tsunade on a bad day, or Obito when he’s feeling self-conscious about his scars.

“You are all here because you’re being considered for an assassination mission.”

Shikamaru steeples his fingers, quirking an eyebrow at the Hokage.

“Akatsuki?”

The Hokage nods, rifling through a scroll that must contain the mission parameters.

“What remains of it. Pein may have eliminated himself from the organization, but there are three, maybe four key members still alive. And after the devastation their combined efforts wreaked on Konoha, we can’t afford to let them go free.”

“Three people,” Shikamaru repeats, clearly trying to visualize who the targets may be.

“Sasori, the puppet master,” Neji offers.

“Deidara,” Sai adds. “A true artist, if you think about murder that way.”

Sasuke can feel paper birds crumpling in his hands.

“Konan.”

“Who else?” Shikamaru asks pointedly.

The Hokage tugs at his robe, an uncharacteristic nervousness displayed in his body language. Sasuke dreads to think of what the Hokage might know that he’s not sharing, to the point that Sasuke almost doesn’t mind being lied to. He has enough concerns, enough trouble sleeping at night without considering all of Konoha’s shadowy threats, beyond the ones that affect him personally.

“I will explain,” the Hokage offers. “But only if you decide to accept this mission in the first place. We are planning on sending out five separate teams of Special Jounin four-man squads to comb the countryside and ultimately, take out Akatsuki.”

Sasuke distantly remembers the most recent assassination squad, sent out only one day before Pein’s attack. 

The details of the mission weren’t well-publicized, and by the time the Hokage, Tsunade, Obito, and Kakashi returned, their work was mostly forgotten about in favor of rebuilding Konoha.

He wonders how bad it must have been, for four Shinobi as talented as them to confront Pein’s Deva Path, Konan, and Kakuzu, and come out with only one successful kill.

Obito hasn’t mentioned it all, but there is something different in his gait than there was before he left.

Sasuke chalked it up to soreness, but perhaps it was something different. Tsunade’s hands may be famous for healing, but if someone got torn apart the way Asuma did, even she wouldn’t be able to heal them completely.

The thought of Obito’s intestines spilling out from his gut, body lacerated to the point that there was more blood than skin covering his body, gives Sasuke chills.

“You four need to understand that this isn’t any regular mission. You will need to speak to your families and loved ones about the risk factor involved and make a decision from there.”

The Hokage unclenches his hands, but the tension remains in his body, everything down to loose strands of hair and the folds of his robe completely still.

“You have until tomorrow at 11 AM to decide. I will provide further details then.”

Before any of them can ask for more, before they can move to stand from their chairs, the Hokage holds up a hand.

“I will not fault any of you for choosing to stay behind.”

And like that, they are dismissed.

A short walk down the hall and about a minute of waiting later, the four boys are piling into the small elevator.

“What do you think?” Sasuke asks. The meeting was short, the Hokage so unrattled, Sasuke has barely had time to process the situation. 

“I’m going,” Sai announces, something like uncharacteristic conviction in his voice.

“Just like that?” Neji reponds. “Don’t you want to talk to some family beforehand?”

Sai blinks, confused.

“I have no family. And I know that my friends would do the same thing in my place.”

Sasuke doesn’t know about that.

“Sai just might have the right idea,” Shikamaru murmurs, tapping his fingers on the wall in thought. “Going on a mission like this, succeeding where so many others have failed...it would mean instant career advancement.”

Every second of this conversation makes Sasuke feel like he’s going crazier. “You can’t tell me you’re really that lazy! For god’s sake, Shikamaru, you have your clan to consider. What would they say if you were so quick to sign your life away?”

Shikamaru sighs. “My mother would probably disown me the second I stepped off the compound. What an infuriating woman.”

It would be uncomfortable to hear Shikamaru refer to his own mom in such a way, but the affection in his tone is apparent.

“The clan issue isn’t quite that simple,” Neji adds. “My elders would be more than happy to sign my life away, if it meant a chance of increased prestige for the Hyuugas.”

And Sasuke just doesn't know what to make of that.

Sasuke finds himself speaking up, eager to change the vein of the conversation towards something less difficult. “Who do you think the fourth member might be, if Hokage-sama wasn’t willing to say more?”

“It’s hard to say. We know so little about Akatsuki in the first place.” 

Sasuke stares at Shikamaru, surprised he’d admit to not knowing something.

Sai smiles like he’s about to tell the funniest joke.

“Not Orochimaru. He never had the right head on his shoulders for Akatsuki.”

If Sasuke had enough room in the elevator to move his arms, he’d strangle Sai.

“It has to be a missing-Nin,” Neji presses on, ignoring Sai’s terrible comment. “Someone familiar with Akatsuki or sympathetic to their ideas. A former member, perhaps?”

There’s a collective inhale as they all some to the same conclusion.

“Someone like…”

“Itachi,” Sasuke finishes, spitting out the word like poison in his mouth.

He can feel them avert their gazes, can feel the tension pooling around their ankles and stifling the air.

When the elevator bell rings and the doors slide open, they all jump.

Sasuke can’t say he’s not glad for the interruption. He’d rather die than talk about his family with these three.

There’s a bit of a rush to get down the hall and out the front door, where they all peel off towards their own destinations.

Sasuke doesn’t leave immediately, still a bit shocked at the possibility of Itachi being one of the targets. He wonders why the Hokage picked him. Whether it’s a conflict of interest, or a familial advantage. The Hokage can’t be so stupid as to assume that Itachi will spare him because he did so once before.

Deeply entrenched in his own thoughts, Sasuke takes a second to notice another presence beside him.

Neji is watching him with pale eyes, something unfamiliar in his face.

“I know it’s not my place to say,” he starts, voice only slightly louder than the sounds of the city below, “but you should really speak with Obito about this mission.”

As if Obito doesn’t already know. The Hokage confides in him and Kakashi more than any other Jounin in this village.

“I think it’s pretty clear to everyone in Konoha how much he cares about you.”

And just like that, Neji is off, his long hair swaying from side to side with each dead-quiet footstep.

Sasuke stays still, gawking like a damn tourist for a while longer. 

He barely registers how he’s blocking the doors, lost in distant memories of swirling, red eyes. 

Whether they’re Itachi’s, Obito’s, or his own, he cannot say.

\----

“Absolutely not.”

Sasuke springs from his chair, standing up in the hopes of commanding more attention.

“I am an adult!” Sasuke grits his teeth, trying to calm himself. “You don’t get to dictate what I do anymore.”

Obito stares back, mouth a flat line. He’s still seated at the dingy kitchen table, silent and still in his anger where Sasuke is explosive.

“You still live under our roof,” Kakashi points out from the corner of the room, “which means we get a say in what you’re doing.”

Sasuke glares daggers at Kakashi. He didn’t expect Kakashi to be on his side, but he certainly didn’t expect the degrading parental tone either.

“Why can’t you understand that this is important to me? Just about any other family in Konoha would be proud of their son for accepting such an important job. Or is my honor and our village’s safety not a good enough cause for you?”

“No clan knows loss the way Uchihas do,” Obito fires back. “If my care offends you, then I don’t know what to say.”

“That is so hypocritical of you!” Sasuke slams his hands down on the table, jostling the dinner plates laid about.

Obito has been going on dangerous missions for all of Sasuke’s life. He and Kakashi were war veterans at the same age Sasuke graduated from the Ninja Academy. Hell, Kakashi was his own damn Jounin-Sensei.

“I don’t care.” Obito looks Sasuke dead in the eyes, tone unnervingly steady. “I’d rather you be a coward than dead.”

Sasuke scoffs. “So that’s it. You just don’t trust me. It’s okay, Obito,” he snarls. “Just tell me to my face that I’m a crappy Shinobi who never should have made Jounin. Tell me I spar like an overeager child, and that I wouldn’t last five seconds in a fight with another Akatsuki member. Tell me the Hokage picked me as calculated cannon fodder.”

Obito’s eyes flash red with an unspoken threat.

“You died, Sasuke!” He roars. “You died at the hands of the Akatsuki, and you’re ready to go jumping back in for some bullshit macho-man reason!”

Sasuke tries to shake the feeling of coldness that clings to his neck, the second of terror he’s felt a few times since that day, in the moments right before he falls asleep.

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” he mutters, folding his arms and looking away in a very non-adult way.

Obito sighs. He’s not buying a second of Sasuke’s bullshit.

“Kakashi,” he announces, “Get your sandals. We’re speaking with Minato.”

And with that air of finality, he gets up and leaves the room.

Sasuke watches him go, mouth gaping open. 

He turns to Kakashi, hoping to hear a voice of reason.

“He can’t possibly think that’s going to stop me from leaving.”

Kakashi’s one exposed eye shifts to Sasuke, somehow expressing disappointment with its slow blinking.

“We have to try,” Kakashi replies. He follows Obito’s path out of the room.

Sasuke hovers by the kitchen table, alone. He can hear Obito and Kakashi exchanging words from Obito’s bedroom, no doubt getting ready for an impromptu trip to the Hokage Tower.

Sasuke throws himself back onto the chair with a groan of frustration.

\----

It’s the strangest sense of Deja Vu. 

Sasuke, Shikamaru, Neji, and Sai are gathered around the Hokage’s desk, and air of solemnity filling the room.

The Hokage didn’t say anything to Sasuke when he walked in, so he has to assume that Obito and Kakashi’s last-minute protests didn’t work.

He tries to push the thought aside, not wanting to consider what sort of conversation transpired in this room last night. Obito’s tense silence at the breakfast table this morning was telling enough.

“I see you’ve all made up your minds.”

None of the boys respond. This is not the time for jokes or celebration. 

“As I explained yesterday,” the Hokage continues, “You will comprise one of five four-man squads. Your squads will not travel together, but will fan out through Fire Country, each within a fifty-mile radius of each other.”

“How long will this mission last?” Neji interrupts. Sasuke turns to him in surprise, confused by his uncharacteristic lack of tact.

“As long as it takes to find Akatsuki. If you’ve combed through every inch of Fire Country and still haven’t found them, we’ll proceed from there. We have special diplomatic procedures in place for crossing into other territories.”

Neji nods in affirmation.

“Now, as you know, there are four intended targets. Konan, Sasori, and Deidara.”

“And the last?” Shikamaru asks, raising one brow archly.

“Zetsu. A creature not quite human—it has the wood release, and seemingly infinite regenerative abilities. We believe it to be created from a stolen sample of Senju Hashirama’s DNA.”

Not Itachi. Sasuke doesn’t know whether to be relieved or upset.

Still, there is something unspoken in the Hokage’s words. Sasuke doesn’t have to be a genius to know there’s only one person who had access to the Shoadime’s DNA plus the skills to create something from it was Orochimaru.

Even now, it seems like the specter of Orochimaru’s threats hang heavy over Sasuke’s shoulders.

“How do you know?” Sai questions. “If Orochimaru really did create this creature, he hasn’t exactly been around to confirm it.”

The Hokage shakes his head.

“This was created by something older and far more powerful than Orochimaru. But Zetsu’s origins are classified. All you need to know is that Special Jounin Uchiha Obito confirmed it a month ago, and it is a very real threat.”

Neji, Sai, and Shikamaru all turn their heads towards Sasuke at the mention of his guardian. 

It sounds familiar. The kind of story Sasuke was told as a child, details softened around the edges so that he wouldn’t lie awake at night, dreaming of the horrors that plagued Obito.

Uchiha Madara. Forever immortalized in Founders’ Park, revered as one of the most important figures in Konoha history. 

The man responsible for Obito’s year-long torture, and creator of Zetsu.

Sasuke suspects Obito’s miraculous survival stemmed from Zetsu’s rumored regenerative abilities. 

“It’s not my story to share,” he says, after a beat. For all that he hates secrets, he will go to the grave with Obito’s. The origins of the man’s scars and his mysterious disappearance are sealed behind ten feet of concrete in Konoha’s Shinobi Archives for good reason.

“It won’t probably won’t prove relevant,” the Hokage adds. “From prior information, we know Zetsu isn’t loyal to the Akatsuki cause. He was outright dismissive of the other members, and without Pein to reign him in, we suspect he has abandoned their group.”

“And if he isn’t?”

The Hokage sighs. 

“He’s made of a fiber material, and he can’t regenerate without his body parts getting reattached.”

Makes enough sense to Sasuke. He can burn the shit out of anything, and Sai’s paintings are versatile. Shikamaru’s shadows speak for themself, and though Hyuuga techniques aren’t exactly advertised, Sasuke can begrudgingly admit that Neji is capable.

“This brings us to our last issue. You four need to pick a squad leader. Someone who is willing to make hard calls, whose orders you will not hesitate to follow.”

There’s a pause as the four boys study each other.

“Shikamaru.”

It’s not necessary to take a vote, not when all of them have answered unanimously.

\----

It’s dark outside when they meet at the gate, the sun not yet risen.

All clad in Jounin vests and standard packs, there are more people at the gate than Sasuke has ever seen before.

Twenty men is a lot to spare for one mission—an extended mission, even more so.

And that’s not even counting all of their loved ones.

From his vantage point, Sasuke can see Shikamaru, beside two older individuals with equally dark hair and stoic expressions. He recognizes the man as Shikaku, the Hokage’s favorite advisor after only Tsunade. The woman must be Shikamaru’s “troublesome” mother.

Sai stands somewhat nearby, his own familial connections not too far off from Sasuke’s. Besides Sakura and Kakashi, he’s got a few more people here to send him off. An elderly man and woman Sasuke doesn’t recognize, most definitely civilian. Two people about Sai’s age, similar in complexion to the older couple. And three more children tugging at Sai’s pants, ratty and needy the orphans always are.

Neji stands apart from the crowd, huddled with Hinata and another dark-haired girl. The girl doesn’t look too happy to be here, but as he watches, Hinata tugs on her sleeve and the girl turns her attention back to Neji, if a bit reluctantly. She must be Hinata’s younger sister, the one who’s supposed to be a Genin prodigy.

But those are the only people who’ve come to say goodbye. One of the biggest clans in Konoha, and the only people who will see Neji off are his cousins, one annoyed to be here.

Something aches in the back of Sasuke’s chest.

From across the way, Obito catches Sasuke’s eye and waves. He and Kakashi had already said goodbye to Sasuke and are now embroiled in a conversation with some of the other Jounin. 

Older and more experienced, in both combat and life. People who served in the ANBU with Kakashi, people who went on missions with Obito.

Sasuke wonders what’s more cruel—sending out young men full of potential like him and Neji, or sending out the others, with their families and suburban houses and retirement plans for some distant future.

From the mixed squads, it seems the Hokage couldn’t decide either.

And when it comes down to it, Sasuke’s glad he’s going instead of Obito.

He’d rather have Obito never talk to him again than be dead.

\----

Sasuke takes first watch. He’s not yet tired, despite the miles of ground they’ve covered since leaving Konoha this morning. Besides, his hawk summons and Sharingan are practically designed for surveillance.

Right now, he’s perched part way up a tree, the rest of the campsite below him. It’s a good vantage point, where he can ambush any would be attackers before they spot him. If Sasuke happens to like being closer to the stars, then that’s just an extra perk.

A rustle of the leaves startles Sasuke out of his contemplative silence. Swiveling his head around, he spots Neji climbing the tree before he’s made it all the way up.

Sasuke stays silent, waiting to see what Neji has come to say—it’s not his sleep cycle the other boy is messing up. 

Neji, now at eye-level with Sasuke, slides over from the trunk to the large branch Sasuke is seated on. Seeing Neji’s expectant face, he slides over, leaving a bit of room on the branch for Neji. 

Neji scoots down the branch until there’s a scant few inches between him and Sasuke, and throws his legs over the branch, letting them dangle into the open air below.

“Sorry,” he whispers, pale eyes flickering down to the sleeping forms of Sai and Shikamaru below. 

Sasuke stares back, a bit confused.

“Why are you here?” 

He flinches at his own words—he did not mean for that to come out so aggressive.

It seems Neji doesn’t care though, because he smiles under the moonlight, something self-deprecating about the tilt of his head and the strange sloping of his shoulders. 

“I couldn’t sleep. So, when I saw you up here, I thought it might be okay for me to join in.” He adjusts himself on the branch, leaning back against the trunk in a way that is very un-Hyuuga-like. He runs his fingers along the dark grooves of the bark.

“I think this is the first time I’ve climbed a tree outside of chakra training.”

Sasuke snorts under his breath. 

“You’re supposed to walk up the tree by concentrating chakra into your heels, not climb it.”

He still remembers the tinge of jealousy he felt when Sakura scaled a forty-foot tall pine in the Forest of Death. Meanwhile, him and Sai could barely get two feet up without falling flat on their asses.

“With Gai-Sensei, we did both,” Naji says with a grimace. 

Sasuke doesn’t know if it was better or worse to have a lazy teacher like Kakashi. Gai would tell his students to run five laps around Konoha and do it with where Kakashi would be content to curl up with an Icha Icha book. That whole “do as I say, not as I do” attitude has left Sasuke with some authority issues. 

But he likes to think he learned patience from Kakashi. And the Chidori.

“And before you were a Genin,” Sasuke finds himself saying, “you didn’t climb trees then?”

Neji shakes his head, crossing his hands into his lap.

Sasuke had climbed trees once. The Uchiha Compound had emptied out into a dense, vibrant forest, and every second of his spare time Sasuke would struggle up the wide trunks and low-hanging branches. His limbs, still round from baby fat, got scratched all along the way.

Yes, Sasuke loved climbing trees.

“I could never get back down them,” he confesses. It’s funny to think about now, when Sasuke knows he could probably leap out of this tree now and land on his feet.

“Why not?”

Sasuke looks down at his feet, swinging gently in the air with a cool night breeze.

“The height, maybe? I really can’t remember—all I know I that I would scale them, but when the time came to climb back down, my legs would freeze up.”

“And then what happened?”

And then Itachi would come find him, stuck in a tree for an hour straight and bawling his eyes out. And Itachi would hold his arms out, a gentle smile and a calm voice, and he would implore Sasuke to come down. And Sasuke would jump, fear in the back of his throat and trust in his heart. 

Itachi caught him every time.

“I would jump, and someone would catch me.”

Neji doesn’t ask who the someone was.

When Sasuke was ten, he and Obito went hiking through Fire Country. On their second day during lunch break, Obito spotted an oak tree, wide and tall and shady. He leapt up it without a second thought, childlike glee smeared across his face for all the birds and squirrels to see.

When he asked if Sasuke wanted to join him, Sasuke politely declined.

He supposes this is the first time he’s climbed a tree for fun in quite a long time.

“Why don’t you head to bed, Sasuke?”

Sasuke looks up in surprise. He and Neji may not constantly try to scratch each other’s eyes out whenever they talk anymore, but this kindness is unprecedented. 

“Are you serious?”

Neji fixes Sasuke with an annoyed look. 

_That’s more like it._

“Yeah. I have the watch shift after this one. And besides, I wasn’t sleeping anyways.”

He looks away, shrugging. 

“Might as well make sure only a quarter of us are sleep-deprived tomorrow.”

Sasuke will take it. It’s a good enough reason as any.

“Okay.”

He moves to get up, clambering over Neji’s reclined form to reach the trunk of the tree. While crossing over, his hand touches Neji’s, and he’s a bit surprised at how warm the other boy’s skin is to the touch. 

But then again, Neji’s never acted so warm towards him before.

Before he slides down, he looks back at Neji.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t know who’s more thrown off by the sincerity in his voice—him or Neji.

\----

Two weeks of traveling fly by, with no sign of Akatsuki. Sasuke doesn’t want to let his guard down, but it’s hard to resist, surrounded by beautiful nature and good company.

Case in point—the four of them are stopping for the evening, twilight filtering through the trees and birds chittering in the background. They have kept up a steady but manageable pace, rising and retiring with the sun each day as they sweep across the eastern edge of Fire Country.

They have not seen another living soul in the sixteen days since they’ve set out from Konoha, but Sasuke doesn’t find himself too homesick.

Sai is a constant, a memory of a simpler childhood with less responsibilities and greater freedom. For all his raunchy jokes and inflammatory comments, Sai brings an odd sort of levity to their little group.

He’s sitting a bit apart from their campsite now, sketchbook in hand and eyes glued to the treeline. It’s a habit now, Sai taking time every evening to sketch their surroundings. When prompted to show his work, he hides the papers away, refusing to let any of them see what he has created. 

Sasuke would suspect he’d doing nude drawings of them without their permission, a problem that plagued Sai in their Genin days, except he caught a glance of one of Sai’s pictures a week back.

It was only a glimpse, a second and a corner of the page, but even Sasuke’s untrained artist eye could see the delicate shading and intricate lines of a leaf-laden tree.

He supposes art is something like martial arts. It takes years of practice and hard work and failure to work up that muscle memory, and must be maintained, for an artist and a fighter will always strive to improve. Sasuke imagines a life where he had been born into a different family and a different life, where he could pursue something good like art.

If he picks up a pen tomorrow, he wonders if he could become one yet.

Shikamaru, too, is different. Sasuke had spent years ignoring the boy, dismissing his lazy attitude and choice in friendships as childish and boring. After the Genin Exams, where Shikamaru bested opponent after opponent with his unexpected cunning and unnerving shadow tricks, Sasuke admired him to the point of near-hero worship.

He was a wolf in sheep's clothing, the way Sakura’s cherry-blossom hair hid her iron fists, or Kakashi’s bored posture hid a will of steel and a killer instinct.

Some deeper part of Sasuke envied Shikamaru, for his old soul and immense intellect. He thought that, maybe, if he had been smarter, he might have been able to pick up on social cues better or found a way to parse through his trauma without years of struggles and nightmares.

He’s learned quite a bit in these past few months. Namely, that people have difficult lives and situations outside his realm of knowledge. Their pain may not be as public as his, or their masks may be that much more convincing, but others are hurting too.

Sasuke’s sure that Shikamaru has his own struggles. What makes him a good leader is his ability to look past them for the sake of others.

And then there’s Neji.

He’s friendlier than Sasuke remembers. Maybe he has an idea of what Sasuke has been through, or maybe he’s been through a lot himself, but since that first night up in the trees, their interactions have shifted from verbal spars to actual conversations.

Sasuke finds he doesn’t mind at all. He isn’t caught up in the dumb, petty rivalries between their clans, and he’s not parading around trying to impress a certain blonde-haired individual anymore.

Many times now, Neji has climbed up into the trees during Sasuke’s shift, huddled in close to Sasuke’s right shoulder. Their conversations are quiet and contemplative, the silences between them filling out with the chirps of nearby crickets and a soft hoot of a far-off owl. 

Talking to Neji is like looking into a mirror of what Sasuke could have been—the unfavored son of a strict family, where pride and honor equated to love. Sasuke admires Neji, as cocky as the bastard used to be. He has worked hard and made a name for himself outside of the Hyuuga’s long shadow, has turned out to be not as fucked up as the rest of those inbred aristocrats. Sasuke isn’t sure he could do the same, if he were put in Neji’s position.

And Neji is a good listener, too. They both are.

It’s so unlike talking to Naruto, where he has to fight to get a sentence or two in, or Sakura, where she talks circles around him until he feels dizzy in the head. 

But Sasuke likes it. 

Tending to the fire in front of him, Sasuke barely notices Neji’s soft footsteps over Shikamaru’s occasional snores and the sound of paper sliding against paper as Sai sketches.

Neji crouches next to Sasuke, inspecting the fire with a judging eye.

Sasuke waits expectantly for the snarky comment, already preparing a response in the back of his head.

Neji may be acting nicer, but he’s still a bastard when he wants to be, and Sasuke can give as good as he gets.

He offers up a hand, twigs and dead moss and pine needles wrapped inside.

“Some kindling for the fire,” he offers gruffly.

Sasuke takes it and stuffs it underneath the pyramid of logs he’s built up. 

It’s a kind gesture and saves Sasuke a fair chunk of time where he’d have to trudge through the mosquito-laden forest looking for materials. 

“Thanks,” he stutters out.

Neji waves a hand at the pile of wood and the dirt clearing around it. 

“The faster we make this fire, the faster we can eat and the faster we can go to bed.”

“Right,” Sasuke mutters. He knew it was too good to be true.

It’s only when Neji gets up and walks away that he speaks again.

“Douchebag.”

He hears Neji stop and turn around, but Sasuke doesn’t stop poking at the logs. He knows how to speak loud enough that his words may be heard, but faint enough that the whispers can be construed as nothing more than a figment of one’s imagination.

It’s a personal technique he and Sai and Sakura developed many years ago, so that they could mock Kakashi without him punishing them.

They should’ve realized that he’d make them do another lap anyways.

Good thing Neji is no Jounin-Sensei.

An hour-and-a-half later, after Sai has finished his drawing and Shikamaru has napped and Neji has brushed his hair or plucked his eyebrows or whatever, all four of them sit, full and content with a warm meal and tired feet.

Which is why it surprises Sasuke that Shikamaru speaks up.

“I’ll take first shift tonight. Sai, you take second.” With his piece said, Shikamaru stretches back out on the grass.

Sasuke waits expectantly for orders that will never come.

“And what about Sasuke and I?” Neji finally asks, speaking over the crackle of the fire.

Shikamaru’s brown eyes flicker in their direction, and with a grunt of effort, he brings himself back up to a sitting position.

“Well,” he says after another moment of intense staring, “I figured that if you two were just going to stay up and chit-chat over each other’s shifts, you might as well do a back-to-back one instead.”

Sasuke’s eyes practically bug out of his head. He can hear Neji gasp beside him.

He doesn’t know what’s worse—Shikamaru’s leery tone or the fact that he’s been aware of their late-night conversations since this mission began over half-a-month ago.

Shikamaru plops back down to his spot, and Sasuke feels a tinge of assurance—at least Shikamaru isn’t the kind of person to give a shit about gossip or rumors. If Ino were here, Sasuke might not have stayed so calm.

But a voice is heard over the breeze, and Sasuke remembers that it isn’t just Shikamaru on this mission.

“Neji and Sasuke, sittin’ in a tree,” Sai singsongs.

Sasuke scoops up a pebble from beside the campfire and chucks it directly at Sai’s forehead.

“K-i-s-s-i-n-OW!”

Sasuke smiles, petty and childish. 

Sai’s groans are drowned out by a snort from Shikamaru, and the startled bark of laughter from Neji.

\----

“Do you miss home?”

Neji looks down at Sai and Shikamaru below, who may or may not be eavesdropping on them tonight.

If they stayed up for a reason stupid as that, Sasuke would be disappointed. There’s absolutely nothing scandalous between him and Neji. Nothing worth losing precious minutes of sleep over.

Still, they’re further apart than usual tonight, no longer shoulder-to-shoulder, even though it would make sense, to conserve heat and space. Some things, no matter how practical, aren’t worth a man’s pride.

“Maybe,” Sasuke replies, so quiet even he can’t make out his own words. He thinks that perhaps Neji may have to watch his lips move to tell what he’s saying but shoves the idea aside before he dwells on something dangerous. “I have Sai, don’t I?”

Neji quirks a small smile at that. “I suppose so. I’m not sure if I would prefer Tenten or Lee here.”

“Lee can be...fun,” Sasuke finally settles on. It’s true—Lee is the best guy Sasuke knows, and his energy has an infectious quality about it, a way of spreading to everyone else in the room.

But still, Sasuke always wants to take a nap after an extended conversation with Lee. He’s a bit stumped on how Sakura can handle it twenty-four/seven. The constant gifts and praises can’t be enough. Lee probably has other...assets that Sakura enjoys. Ew.

“And Tenten is great,” he adds, sparing a glance at the sheathed Kusanagi. Tenten is too cool for all of them.

“Tenten is a _monster_ ,” Neji fires back. “Between her and Lee and Gai-Sensei’s antics, I looked like a damn clown.”

It surprises Sasuke, but not to the point of disbelief. Kunoichi, as a general population, have to have a certain fire. They’d never survive in such a male-dominated field otherwise, as unfair as the situation may be.

Or maybe they all grew up hearing too many stories of Tsunade the Legendary Sannin. 

“I think Sakura made me look the same way,” Sasuke admits.

“Sasuke, cut the crap. We all know Sakura was the one getting dragged into your bullshit schemes.”

Sasuke shakes his head vehemently, memories of Sakura tackling him in a library so many years ago, and the way she followed him all the way home, head bobbing like a pink duckling and running off questions like an annoying parrot. “Not true. We were both at fault. It’s just that Sakura was good at talking herself out of things.”

Neji rolls his eyes. “Sure.”

“It’s true! And that’s not even considering the rogue element at play.”

Neji tilts his head, confusion spelled clearly along the liens of his smooth face. “Rogue element?”

Sasuke grins, a poor imitation of a certain fox. 

“Naruto. He was the worst of all of us, with his signature seals and years of pranking experience. His Sexy Jutsu made me pee my pants once during training.”

Neji looks at Sasuke with a dawning horror on his face.

“Naruto? Uzumaki Naruto, the world-renowned diplomat, savior of Konoha, and Jinchuuriki to the Nine Tails, made you pee your pants?”

Sasuke shifts, uncomfortable with the reverence Neji holds in his voice. 

“Well...yeah. Naruto’s always been a bit crazy, when he’s not on duty.”

Neji shakes his head. 

“I never would've guessed—he always acts so dignified. The Hyuuga elders used to sing his praises when I was younger, saying I should act more like him, and that a ‘foreigner bastard’ shouldn’t be upstaging a bloodline as powerful as ours.”

_And the grass is greener on the other side of the fence_ , Sasuke thinks.

“He was a lot of fun.” Sasuke picks at his Jounin fatigues, aware of the nervous tick but not caring enough to stop it. 

“Was?”

“Things change.” Faster than Sasuke ever realized, and slow enough that he didn’t realize the idea he was clinging to wasn’t even a person anymore. He’s not sure what to do with the obligatory twinges of attraction, of the stray thoughts of his second-best friend.

He can only hope Pein’s attack has changed things for the better.

They drift off for a bit, Sasuke not wanting to say more than he’s expressed already, and Neji too polite to prod further.

Finally, Neji speaks up again.

“I miss Hinata.”

Sasuke doesn’t know her very well, beyond a couple kind words and a soft voice.

“She’s a good person.”

“She’s more than good, Sasuke. She is my sister in everything but blood. It was her, and Tenten and Lee and Gai, who got me through it all. Her words comforted me on cold nights, her hands patched up my wounds from beatings. She even tried to break the curse seal once, and nearly killed herself in the process before I told her to stop.”

The curse seal is the most abominable aspect of the Hyuuga’s practices. A built-in kill switch for the head of the clan, and a brand on their would-be inheritors. Sasuke cannot fathom the thought of turning family to slaves, branches they may be. For Hiashi to do that to his own nephew is absolutely criminal.

Neji clenches his fists tight, emotions drawing taut in his brows and mouth. 

“I would burn down all that the Hyuuga Clan represent, damn the consequences, if it meant I could get her out of there.”

The devotion in his voice is staggering.

But Sasuke knows the feeling well.

“I’ve been an orphan longer than I’ve been a member of the Uchiha,” Sasuke whispers, “But if it meant Obito’s life, I’d choose him over my clan every time.”

Neji doesn’t flinch at Sasuke’s words, at his disloyalty and severity. No—he nods along, and for that, Sasuke is grateful.

“I think I miss her hugs the most. She’s never hard or bony or rough, the way other Shinobi are.”

Sasuke understands.

“I miss Obito’s hugs, too.”

And that’s really the heart of it.

Sasuke wasn’t sad or upset at the loss of their home in Pein’s attack. The nostalgic furniture and memorabilia and worldly possessions didn’t matter at all. He hadn’t bothered to ask himself why at the time, hadn’t cared or had time to wonder.

But now he knows. His home is not an address, or a building, or a material good.

It’s not his dusty, untouched bedroom in the Uchiha Compound.

Home is Obito.

\----

Twenty-seven days and four hours. 

It takes twenty-seven days and four hours since their departure from Konoha for all hell to break loose.

The sun is climbing higher and higher in the sky by the minute, a sweltering, pressing heat that makes the hair on Sasuke’s neck and the clothes on his back bind to his skin like leeches.

There’s a comfortable silence among the squad as they trek through dense forest.

They’re not relaxed—no, there is not a Shinobi in this world who could be inattentive outside their own village’s walls. But they’re close to it. Sasuke’s hawk summons have long since been sent away, the Tebi annoyed with the lack of action and their dissatisfaction pressing on Sasuke until he relented. Sai has capped and stashed his pen and scrolls, leaving his hands dangling freely by his sides in an over-exaggerated swinging motion. Shikamaru has fallen to the back, only the occasional yawn from him interrupting the forest quiet. Sasuke hasn’t felt the cool, gentle chakra of Neji’s activated Byakugan in four days.

Perhaps it serves them right, for not staying vigilant day-in and day-out. 

It’s the only explanation Sasuke has for their situation when they stumble across a clearing five minutes later, the voices beyond only audible once they’ve clambered past the thick brush and into plain sight.

For someone with the Sharingan, Sasuke’s eyes are significantly slower to register the scene than his ears.

“—is dead! Why are you still here?”

A woman, clothed in black and red robes, steel blue hair tied back into a neat bun, grinds her teeth and replies. 

“Because he will hunt us down! Without Nagato here to protect us, without the Rinnegan, he will not hesitate to wipe us off this very earth if we do not fall into line.”

A voice, even-toned and soft, rings out across the clearing. 

“He will destroy you no matter what, Konan. Akatsuki is gone, and you will be too.”

The wind shifts, ever so slightly, rustling the branches of the trees all around.

“Fly far and fast, little bird. Fly north for the summer to Amegakure, or better yet, fly west, beyond the mountains and laws that dictate our Shinobi system. Perhaps you can find peace without death there.”

Konan, and Sasuke knows without a doubt in his heart that it is Konan, says no more.

A fizzle of chakra later, and a swarm of thousands of paper birds are being carried off by the wind.

The other person turns in their direction. 

They are not wearing Akatsuki robes, but Sasuke can imagine they once did. 

And he can remember them in standard Konoha fatigues before that, metal forehead protector gleaming proudly in the sun as they made the trek back to the Uchiha Compound every evening.

“It’s rather rude to eavesdrop.”

The four of them may be clustered close together, but those gleaming red eyes are focused solely on Sasuke.

Uchiha Itachi stands still, like a cat waiting to strike.

Neji and Sai and Shikamaru draw their weapons, but Kusanagi remains sheathed at his side. Sasuke thinks he may be too paralyzed to move. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” Itachi drawls, like he’s already bored of their sudden appearance, “I have things to do. People to hunt, plants to weed, that sort of thing.”

Someone whispers the name Zetsu behind him, but Sasuke barely registers it. Faceless boogeymen and far off politics barely matter when the living, breathing terror of his childhood stands before his eyes.

“No,” Shikamaru finally says. Sasuke wouldn’t know he’s nervous, except for the fast breathing from his Squad Leader, pricking the hairs up on the back of his head.

Itachi tilts his head a bit, something searching on his face.

“No?”

It’s a challenge if Sasuke’s ever heard one, but Shikamaru has probably already figured that out.

“Itachi Uchiha, you are under arrest by order of the Council of Konoha. Failure to comply will result in lethal use of force.”

Standard Jounin protocol. Itachi probably knows the words and rulebooks as well as Shikamaru or the Hokage himself. 

A crow lands on a nearby tree, cawing loudly. 

To be a bird, removed from all sources of human drama and violence. To kill for food and nothing more.

Sasuke’s eyes track it with a passive curiosity. 

Crows were a mixed omen, according to his grandmother. Bringers of death or great fortune, depending on who they were drawn to and when they showed up.

They used to flock to the maple sapling outside Itachi’s window, so frequently that no one could dismiss it as typical animal behavior. The compound quickly spread with excited rumors, of how even the birds could tell that Itachi was different, was destined for greatness. 

Not three weeks after the crows started appearing, Itachi was inducted into ANBU ranks at age thirteen.

He was busy after that, but Sasuke coveted his spare time like a magpie to jewelry. He would beg Itachi to perform tricks with the crows, and Itachi would always relent. He’d call the birds to him, letting them rest on his arms and shoulders, having them make lazy arcs in the sky above when Sasuke asked to see them in flight.

It was all great fun, until Mikoto caught them outside one day. The verbal lashing she gave Itachi was harsh enough to cripple his pride for five days afterwards, so furious was she that Itachi was using tricks of the Genjutsu on his kid brother.

But Sasuke wasn’t disappointed or let down by Itachi’s deception. He was flattered by the lengths his brother went through to please him. 

Sasuke still doesn't know if those first crows were real or manufactured by Itachi’s immaculate Sharingan.

He supposes it doesn’t matter. The Uchihas misinterpreted the omen. A year after the crows appeared, Itachi massacred the entire clan, save two individuals.

If only it had been obvious from the day he was born, that Itachi was destined for pure evil.

Something about the bird on the branch tickles Sasuke’s senses in the way Itachi’s crows did so long ago. 

The leaves on the branch are completely still. No movement there, like the bird never landed.

Or the bird never existed.

“It’s a Genjutsu!”

Before he can elaborate, his world is consumed by a swirl of black feathers and sharp beaks, the presence of another person in his mind heavy like oil.

\----

_The moon is high in the sky, and there’s a fierce autumn chill on the wind._

_Dim light reflects off the clean white walls of Uchiha houses. The wood trim and engraved doors are nearly black in the night. The compound, so busy and crowded in the daylight hours, is dead quiet now._

_Sasuke passes through the gates, home after a secret-mission gone on too long. Something in his gut tells him this is a usual habit, that no one is waiting up for him tonight because he does it so often._

_He walks past a living room window, a delicately-tiled koi pond. In the mirrored panes and still water, Itachi’s face reflects back, young with bags under his eyes from the weight of his whole family’s expectations pressed upon him._

_Something in the back of Sasuke’s mind whines in protest._

_Oh god. Please. Brother, anything but this._

_Itachi’s footsteps are light, soundless as he makes his way down the central street._

_Sasuke’s eyes are his as they gaze down the end of the road, to the main branch house at the end of the street. Their home._

_This...isn’t what Sasuke expected. There’s no lead feeling of sluggishness in Itachi’s legs, no fast beating heart echoing in his ears._

_Itachi feels perfectly calm. Like tonight is the same as any other night of the week, the month, or the year._

_A shadow off the corner of the street shifts._

_Itachi whips around, alert and poised for attack in a split second._

_Even with eyes as keen as his, Itachi can’t quite make out the figure’s face. But he relaxes ever-so slightly, like he recognizes the person in front of him._

_“I thought you were done with us,” Itachi finally says, quiet enough not to wake up anybody resting soundly in their beds._

_There’s no response from the person. Only their looming silhouette, hanging over Itachi’s smaller frame like a funeral shroud. His heartbeat is faster now._

_“Please,” Itachi whispers. There’s a desperation in his voice that scares Sasuke. His inner thoughst may be concealed, but Sasuke can feel the fear vibrating in every cell of this body._

_“Just leave us. I won’t tell a living soul that you were here tonight if you go right now.”_

_There’s a flash of red in the darkness and Itachi’s knees lock up. His breath catches and his brain seizes, like someone has wrenched his body into a state of absolute obedience._

_“I will be making the demands here, boy,” the shadowy figure growls._

_Another flash of red, and Itachi is falling to his knees, gasping for breath._

_“Understand?”_

_Itachi raises trembling hands to his throat, hoping his voice box will cooperate._

_“...y—es.”_

_“Good. When I am done here tonight, there won’t be a living soul to tell of my existence.”_

_No. No. This can’t be real._

_It’s not clear whether the thought is Sasuke’s or Itachi’s._

_Itachi lowers his head to the shadow’s feet, slumping forward till his forehead hits sandal._

_A position unfit for the Uchiha prodigy, for the future Clan Head._

_“If I am to perish by your hands, I want to make one last request.”_

_The figure laughs, breathy and cruel. It takes him a few more seconds before he speaks. Or maybe he’s just relishing the feeling of Itachi helpless at his feet._

_“I think that I’ll keep you around for a while yet, boy. You’re the only Uchiha here who has proved your worth.”_

_Itachi doesn’t cry, though Sasuke can feel wetness lining the bottom of his eyelids._

_“Then as your loyal servant, I have one request.”_

_“And what would that be?” replies the shadow, all traces of amusement gone from his voice._

_This is dangerous ground to be treading._

_His fists clench tight, blood welling in the places where nail meets skin._

_There is only one option._

_“Spare my brother.”_

_Dead silence._

_Sasuke doesn’t want to see anymore. The deal has been offered, and the ending has already been written. Witnessing it won’t change anything._

_But still, Itachi’s eyes remain open, and Sasuke is stuck, the unwilling spectator._

_The shadow hums like he’s intrigued by his offer._

_“Fugaku’s youngest, yes?”_

_A pause._

_“Yes, sir.”_

_“Too young to have seen me, to know what has been troubling this clan for the past few months.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_The shadow chuckles._

_“Does he admire you, Itachi?”_

_A child’s laughter rings in his ears. A small hand, chubby and soft without years of handling kunai, grips his own._

_“More than anyone in the entire world, sir.”_

_“And his life—is it worth more than all the others? Worth dirtying your hands for?”_

_Itachi answers, voice steady like iron._

_“Yes.”_

_The figure considers his answer for a long time. Long enough for a cramp to form in Itachi’s lower back from his odd position, for his feet to get pins and needles from where they fold under his knees._

_“Very well. One more Uchiha in this village might prove to be...entertaining. I will grant you this boon.”_

_Tears runs down his face now, grief and relief mixing in an ugly swirl of emotion._

_“Thank you. Thank you.”_

_“But,” the shadow interrupts, voice sharp like a whip-crack, “You will dispose of the Clan Heads. If we are to leave little Sasuke alive, he cannot witness the truth.”_

_His own parents’ lives, for Sasuke’s. A deal worth making._

_“And the rest?”_

_“I will take care of that.” The shadow’s teeth gleam bright in the moonlight. The boogeyman of Konoha come to life._

_He pulls his foot away fast, letting Itachi’s forehead bang hard onto the cement._

_Itachi picks himself up, rubbing at the blood on his forehead with a shaky hand._

_He doesn’t dare look at the houses fanning out on either side. No—his eyes are fixed on the large building at the end of the road, where the Uchiha Clan Head and his family live._

_With one-foot forward that now feels like lead, Itachi goes home._

\----

Sasuke wakes up with a start, eyes blinking unseeingly at the harsh sunlight and blue sky above.

He can still feel his hand pushing through his mother’s chest, can feel the last breaths his father took beneath his own hands.

His childhood form staring up at him, sobbing and afraid as he gazed back down. Even seeing from Itachi’s eyes, his brother’s emotions are inscrutable.

“Sasuke!”

Three faces come into view above him, Shikamaru, Sai, and Neji all gazing down in concern.

Sasuke groans, shutting his eyes again against the bright light. 

He takes his time with picking himself up from off the ground, only bothering to crack open his eyes again once he’s sitting up.

“Where’s Itachi?”

Shikamaru frowns, his brow wrinkling in the way it does when he can’t figure out his next move in a game of Shogi.

“He’s gone, Sasuke. He had some faint Genjutsu over us from the moment we stepped into this place, before even Konan flew off. And by the time you realized, he put you in something deeper.”

“Why didn’t you chase after him?” 

“Because,” Neji replies, voice heavy with frustration, “You were screaming and convulsing on the ground, muttering things about crows and shadows and deals.”

“So?” Sasuke practically screams. He has so many questions, and Itachi is the only one who can answer him. But he’s gone already, off to “hunt plants” or some other nonsense. Their odds of running into him again are next to none. 

“You’re our teammate,” Sai offers, voice dangerously calm. Sai, the childhood constant with his flat jokes and offensive nicknames. For someone who had no family, he sure cared a lot about others. Something in his face calms Sasuke, a little bit of familiarity and home in the sweep of his dark hair and the slant of his nose.

Sasuke sighs. He supposes he can’t blame Shikamaru, or any of them for that matter, for their call. He probably would have done the same, if any of the squad had been in his place.

“Right,” he concedes. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Sai grins back.

“Care to tell us what happened?” Shikamaru asks. 

“No—Yes.” Sasuke pauses to breathe, trying to slow his thoughts down before they turn into a full-blown panic attack. 

“I will tell you what happened, but first, we need to get back to Konoha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably be back in a week or two with another 10k chapter. Thank you for all the continued support of this story. Every time I feel my interest wane, I go pouring back through old comments and kudos and feel my passion for this little story rekindled :) ALSO I will respond to comments on time! I'm writing it down so I have to follow through!


	10. Needle in a Haystack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it bad etiquette to post over 5k chapters every week? Oh well.

They end up sending one of Sasuke’s hawks out ahead. His squad doesn’t question him on his urgency to get back to Konoha nor his refusal to elaborate on what Itachi showed him, and for that, Sasuke is more than grateful. Implicit trust is a rare gift, rarer still in times of crisis.

Because they’re being so patient, Sasuke doesn’t argue when Shikamaru insists on sending word back to Konoha that they’re breaking from orders. 

After about twenty minutes back and forth with Sai jotting down ideas, they settle on something simple.

_Ran into unexpected foes._

_Will elaborate when returned to Konoha. Heading back from southeastern border of Fire Country._

_-Squad Five_

Short and simple, nothing too dangerous conveyed in the words, should the message be intercepted by enemy Shinobi or missing-Nin.

With the note sent out ahead, they begin the long trek back to Konoha. It won’t take more than five days, less than one-third of the time it took them to get this far out into Fire Country. It shouldn’t, not when they don’t have to comb every inch of the forests for Akatsuki hideouts.

\----

On the second day of travel, while crossing an old and poorly-maintained road that leads north and east to the ruins of Uzushio, a hawk swoops by, circling around their party with a human-like purpose.

Sasuke stills and sticks his arm out high above, hoping his hunch is right.

The hawk dives low and quick, digging into Sasuke’s forearm with sharpened claws. He winces a bit, grateful that his uniform is long sleeved. His own summons are not nearly as rough with him.

The hawk doesn’t look at him, its large brown eyes fixed on some distant point in the forest where a rabbit is probably hopping by.

It’s certainly not one of the Tebi. Sasuke’s hawks are clever and calculating, their eyes sparkling with an intelligence beyond the comprehension of simple animal, and their feathers are tinged with ancient chakra.

The bird before him is nothing more than that. A bird.

Or, according to the note tied to its neck, one of the Hokage’s hawks.

Sasuke plucks the paper from it, careful not to let his fingers get too near its sharp beaks. He’s learned that lesson from his own summons well enough.

With the note free, the hawk takes off with a mighty beat of its wings, blowing Sasuke’s bangs back in the process. Sasuke watches it leave with a tinge of envy. If only it were so easy for him to get back to Konoha.

“So?” Shikamaru asks, eyes fixed on the paper in Sasuke’s hands.

Sasuke scrambles to open it. Shikamaru isn’t an impatient person, but they really shouldn’t stay in one spot for too long. Who knows what sort of people dwell this far south in Fire Country, so far from Konoha and the capital.

The note is written in a messy handwriting, the sort-of old fashioned script they don’t teach in schools anymore. It’s stamped with the Fire Seal.

_Mission parameters have changed. Squad Five is being ordered to return to Konoha immediately, as ordered by the Hokage._

Short, sweet, and somewhat eyebrow raising.

“There’s no way they got our message already,” Neji points out.

Sasuke snorts. “Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad we’re on the same page as our superiors.”

Shikamaru hefts his pack back on with a grunt, taking a cautious step onto the old dirt road. He turns back to look at the three of them, something in his posture telling Sasuke and the others to shut up and pay attention.

“The sooner we can get back to Konoha, the sooner we can all find out what’s going on.” Shikamaru glances at Sasuke, and Sasuke feels a hot flush of shame down his neck.

Not knowing what to say, he slips his pack on and follows Shikamaru.

Neji jogs to catch up, falling into step with Sasuke.

“Don’t feel too bad about the sworn to secrecy thing,” Neji whispers, pale eyes fixed on Shikamaru’s back. “He’s not mad about you not trusting us.”

Sai steps up to Sasuke’s other side, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Yeah. Shikamaru’s just mad that he knows less than you!”

The statement is loud enough for Shikamaru to hear, but somehow, by the time Shikamaru has swiveled his head around to glare at Sasuke, Neji and Sai are ten feet behind him, deep into a conversation about birdwatching.

 _So much for teammates I can trust,_ Sasuke thinks with a hint of fondness.

\----

Five days, zero showers, and two soles rubbed completely raw later, Squad Five makes it back to Konoha.

It’s dark outside when they march up to the gates, somewhere close to ten o’clock on a Wednesday night, which is why Sasuke is so surprised to see a familiar silhouette against the looming stone facade.

Obito’s nose and forehead are scrunched up in concentration, and a look at the object in his hands explains any confusion about his odd pose away. It seems Kakashi lent him one of those adventure-porn novels, probably to pass the time as he camped out at the front of town.

Sasuke would be amazed that Obito is here exactly on time, but he knows the extent of Obito’s tiger-mom tendencies. The moment he heard word of one of Sasuke’s hawks in town, he was probably kicking down the Hokage’s door demanding an explanation.

And despite the fact that this mission is heavily classified, Obito has still managed to weasel out an answer from the Hokage, hence his waiting by the gates.

Sasuke feels a swell of something warm in his gut and tries to hide the big smile that’s already cracking across his face. He’s not entirely sure he succeeds.

Neji raises an eyebrow. “Well?” he says, tone so dry it would give Wind Country a run for its money, “Are you going to greet him? Some of us would kill for a familiar face to come home to.”

Sasuke bites back a sharp response at the sight of Sai and Shikamaru’s haggard, dirt-stained faces.

Maybe Neji has a point.

Without further ado, Sasuke breaks out into a full-on sprint.

He doesn’t slow down as he approaches Obito, taking a leaping jump at the man the moment he comes into range.

“Obito!” he cries, throwing himself into Obito’s arms with an exuberance better matched for a hyperactive child than a fully-grown man.

Obito squawks, dropping his book in order to catch Sasuke before he falls down. If he’s stunned, he plays it off, drawing Sasuke into a hug so hard Sasuke can feel his joints pop.

Sasuke smells terrible. He’s very sure that Obito’s white shirt won’t remain that way the moment he pulls away.

“I missed you,” Obito whispers into his left temple.

“I missed you,” Sasuke replies, angling himself so he slots under Obito’s chin, like he did when he was little.

They stay like that for a few moments, only breaking apart when the rest of Sasuke’s squad approaches.

“So,” Obito starts, tugging at a fresh-looking brown on his sleeve, “Why the rush to come back to Konoha? We got your message way too soon for you to have received the recall notice.”

Sasuke ignores the way he says “we,” like the Hokage is a close family member instead of the second-most politically powerful man in all of Fire Country.

“It’s about Itachi,” Sasuke says, after Shikamaru waves a hand and motions for him to explain. 

He turns back to Obito, voice pleading and eyes wide. 

“We need to speak to the Hokage right away.”

Obito doesn’t ask anymore questions, giving a sharp nod in confirmation. Wordlessly, he grabs Sasuke hand, and in the two blinks of the eye, Sasuke’s world is bending in on itself.

There’s a flash of gray, and when Sasuke opens his eyes again, he’s standing before the Yondaime’s personal quarters, complete with high iron gates and ANBU guards. They call it the Village House, but it’s really more of a mansion, modeled after the architectural style of Mito’s estate on the edge of town.

Sasuke shakes his head in confusion. The only sign he was at Konoha’s gates a few seconds ago is a lingering nausea and his travel pack hanging off of one shoulder.

It’s so rare that Obito uses Kamui, and Sasuke’s distaste for it is so great that he barely comprehends that the Sharingan is how Obito has transported him across town.

Obito doesn’t seem as hung up on it, because he doesn’t even notice Sasuke’s slumped over posture when he speaks.

“Here we are!” he exclaims, a cheery-bordering on nervous tinge to his voice. “The Hokage is probably settling down for the night, but he’ll let us in to talk to him, no problem! It’s the least he can do for his favorite student and his favorite student’s favorite baby cousin.”

Obito’s definitely nervous then. He only gets this goofy when he’s troubled by something, and the name “Itachi” from Sasuke’s own tongue is certainly the thing to do it.

Still, this is not a crisis Sasuke has time to deal with.

“Obito,” he says, calm as he can be when he’s resisting the urge to barf all over the Hokage’s nice yellow rose bushes, “you forgot something.”

Obito looks at him blankly.

“My teammates,” Sasuke growls. Shikamaru is going to kill him if Sasuke excludes him from the mission debrief with the Hokage. And they wouldn’t admit it, but Neji and Sai won’t be too pleased either.

Obito snaps his fingers. “Right! I’ll be back in a sec.”

A second later and Obito pops into existence in the same spot he left, this time with Shikamaru in tow.

Shikamaru tears away from Obito’s side, hunched over and gagging.

Sasuke changed his mind—Shikamaru won’t kill him for not explaining what happened with Itachi. He’ll kill him for indirectly telling Obito to use Kamui on him.

There are two more snaps, and without a sweat broken from Obito, the entirety of Squad Five is here.

Sasuke is patient as he waits for them to get over their disorientation, giving them a few minutes to stop dry-heaving and groaning.

He even rubs Sai’s back as he throws up a power bar from lunch into the Yondaime’s well-manicured flower garden. Sasuke is perfectly glad to leave that mess to the worms and groundskeepers.

Finally, once every is relatively back to normal, and Neji has growled out his obligatory “Fuck you, Uchiha” remarks, they make their way inside.

None of the guards bat an eye at Obito or the four of them, so Sasuke figures Obito dropping in unexpectedly on the Hokage’s personal hours must be a pretty common occurrence.

A servant leads them down the dark wood, red-carpeted halls with little fanfare, and Sasuke can only catch glimpses of the ornate studies and guest rooms that line the first floor of the mansion.

Finally, after what feels like five miles on tired feet, they come to a large set of double doors, carved with sloping lines and even curves.

Obito doesn’t wait for the servant to let them in or poke his head inside, instead wrenching the door open with the confidence of a Top Rookie graduate on their first day of Genin training.

But perhaps Obito should have knocked after all, because the room they charge blindly into is most definitely a dining room, and seated at it are both the Yondaime and Uzumaki Kushina.

\----

No mission, no matter how dire, supersedes dinner in the Namikaze-Uzumaki household.

Sasuke learns this the hard way, while trying to pass a platter of dumplings across the table from Obito to Sai.

“Hokage-sama,” Sasuke starts, a bit awkward over the cozy silence of the dining room, “If we could get down to business—”

“Sasuke,” Kushina interrupts, a dangerous smile on her face, “take some carrots, please. A growing boy like yourself shouldn’t be so skinny.”

Obito stifles a laugh next to him, and Sasuke takes the plate of carrots from Neji, blush running down his cheeks to his neck.

“A bit of muscle mass would do you some good,” Sai adds for the sake of fanning the flames. “On a scale of Gai-Sensei to that Sarutobi genin kid, you’re on the lower end.”

Sasuke scowls, not wanting to be embarrassed in front of Konoha’s two most important political figures, extended family they may or may not be.

“As if,” he hisses, dark eyes scanning up and down Sai’s dirt-stained, sunburnt skin. “I could pull off a crop top a thousand times better than you, my six pack is so shredded.”

Sai grins, flat and wide.

“Prove it.”

The only thing that stops Sasuke from jumping up from his chair and tearing his shirt off is Obito’s arm, heavy like lead across his chest. 

Sasuke blinks twice and gazes down hard at his full plate.

Carefully picking up his chopsticks, he shoves a carrot into his mouth before he can say anything worse.

It’s not that Sasuke doesn’t appreciate the homecooked, warm meal, or the perfectly pleasant company. He’s just a bit out of phase with this environment. It feels like Itachi’s icy claws are still digging into his brain, and Sasuke would much rather be taking a hot shower and crawling into bed right about now. 

And it’s confusing, to be eating dinner a quarter past ten. But he supposes it makes sense, considering the Hokage’s busy schedule. This might be the only time he actually gets to spend with Kushina outside of the public eye.

The thought gives Sasuke a rush of guilt. Would waiting one extra day to tell the Hokage what he’s learned really make a difference in the grand scheme of things? 

He chokes back tears, overwhelmed with the truth of it all. He’s had a few days to think over what Itachi showed him, the story of the Uchiha massacre, but it still hasn’t set in. The situation is so much more complicated, so much more tragic, so much more scary than he ever imagined.

They eat in silence for a little longer, but Sasuke’s heart just isn’t in it. The carrots taste like chalk on his taste buds, and he focuses on shoveling them in, rather than savoring the flavor.

“So,” Kushina says, obviously trying to get the conversation going again. “What has you boys visiting so late?”

The Hokage glances in her direction, a sharp look passing over his face. “Kushina, we agreed. No business at the dinner table.”

Kushina swats his shoulder with a sense of humor her voice doesn’t quite convey. “Nonsense,” she says, her dark gray eyes boring directly into Sasuke. “They’ve just gotten back from a long mission. Surely they wouldn’t have made the trip over here tonight if they didn’t have something important to say.”

The Hokage sighs, more defeated than annoyed.

“Alright,” he concedes after a moment. “I suppose I should tell you why you were called back to Konoha, in case it’s related to the update you want to give me.”

Shikamaru sits up, alert at the possibility of new intel. Neji and Sai seem equally tense.

“We received a scroll from Suna that Sasori and Deidara had been sighted traveling along the northern border of Wind Country.”

“And?” Shikamaru presses. He’s right to be suspicious. They could have passed right through River Country and onto the eastern edge of Fire Country, where one of the other squads would have intercepted them.

“The patrol that saw them killed them on sight.”

Obito whistles. He’s invested now. “What kind of patrol took down two Akatsuki members like they were inexperienced Chunin?”

“Well,” the Hokage continues, “It was more of a delegation than a patrol.”

“The Kazekage?” Sai asks. Sasuke would frown at the mention of the man, still bitter over the Chunin Exams so long ago, but Sai’s on the right track. The Jinchuuriki of the Sand is on a whole other level than two lesser Akatsuki Shinobi.

The Hokage nods.

“Gaara-sama, and a few of his advisors.”

“Who’s that one chick you get letters from, Shikamaru?” Sai asks pointedly. “You know, spiky ponytails and big-ass fan? Isn’t she one of the Kazekage’s advisors?”

Shikamaru glares daggers at Sai. “Temari,” he growls out. “She’s Gaara’s older sister.”

The Hokage nods, seemingly oblivious to the tension around him. “Yes, her name was on the scroll. She was the supervising Jounin, I think.”

Shikamaru leans back, trying to play off his sudden interest, but Sasuke knows better. He wonders if he looked so obvious whenever he talked to Naruto for all those years. 

“That’s not why we came back,” Neji announces, steering the conversation back from desert winds and distant lovers. “We ran into something different.”

They all look expectantly at Sasuke.

Right. He’s the one that dragged them here to talk to the Hokage, so he’s the one who needs to explain.

“We ran into Konan, down south past Whirlpool Country. She was talking with someone, and they convinced her to flee and give up the Akatsuki cause, or she’d be killed.”

“Did you intercept her?” the Hokage asks, tone carefully neutral.

“No.” Sasuke doesn't look up. “She left before we could intercept her. And, well...” he breathes in and out, steeling himself for the news he has to deliver. 

Everybody looks at him with wide and alert eyes.

“Uchiha Itachi distracted us.”

Obito swears under his breath. Neither the Hokage nor Kushina react audibly, but the Hokage is still looking at him, face carefully controlled. There’s something like pity in Kushina’s expression.

“He had said something about hunting down Zetsu,” Sasuke continues cautiously. “And then Konan was gone.”

Is it considered a mission failure, if they were unaware of who would be in that clearing on the morning they embarked from Konoha? Sasuke knows that it’s a Shinobi’s job to look underneath the underneath, and to expect the unexpected, Itachi isn’t just a shadowy enemy. He’s family.

“Sasuke realized we were in a Genjutsu first,” Neji says. He’s covering for Sasuke’s failure, Sasuke realizes with a start. He’s so grateful he could kiss Neji.

“And by the time we snapped ourselves out of the illusion, Itachi had already disappeared,” Sai chips in.

“We didn’t give chase,” Shikamaru says, bold and unshirking against what Sasuke knows were the mission orders. “Itachi put Sasuke in some deeper illusion, and we needed to make sure he was going to be okay.”

“To make sure he was going to wake up,” Obito whispers under his breath, sounding sad and so, so angry.

The Hokage looks back at Sasuke now. There’s a wrinkle in the man’s brow, and Sasuke knows it’s concern for his own wellbeing, rather than the mission stakes or the concerning intel. 

The Hokage has always been a good man, he supposes.

“That’s why we needed to come here right away,” Sasuke explains. “I wasn’t comfortable sharing what I had seen outside of this circle. Not yet, at least.”

Under the table, someone grabs his hand, gripping tight with reassurance. Obito doesn’t so much as visibly twitch, but Sasuke knows it’s him. 

“What did you see?” Kushina presses gently, willing to speak where everyone else is too afraid.

“I saw the massacre. I saw it for the thousandth time, or however often that Genjutsu plays out in my nightmares.”

“Sasuke,” Obito says. He’s trying to cut him off before Sasuke can embarrass himself, but it won’t work. Obito doesn’t know what Sasuke knows.

“It was different this time. The memory wasn’t from my perspective. It was from Itachi’s.”

“And?” 

Sasuke doesn’t know who asked the question. His heartbeat is thudding in his ears, his voice oddly hollow in the cozy dining room.

“He was forced. There was another person there, who killed all of the Uchihas, save Mikoto and Fugaku.”

 _My parents,_ he doesn’t say.

“Do you know who the other person was?” the Hokage asks after a beat. It’s not like him to be slow, and he’s not called a genius for nothing. But this information is hard to process, and Sasuke’s already had days to try to make sense of it.

“Yes,” Sasuke replies. “It’s the same person who’s pulling the strings for Akatsuki, and the same person who Konan fled from. It’s Zetsu’s master and creator.”

He’s swallows hard. Shadows lurk in the corners of his vision, and bile stings in his throat, because the boogeyman of Konoha is still alive.

“Uchiha Madara killed off the Uchihas. Uchiha Madara is still alive.”

There’s the sound of something slamming onto the table, followed by the sharp rattle of silverware and plates bouncing. 

“No!” 

Obito stares him down, and Sasuke stares back. His guardian’s expression is unfamiliar. Frightening.

“I’m sorry, but no. That’s impossible.”

Sasuke feels a rush of frustration, irrational and undeserving it may be. He has no time for fear and denial, not when the truth is sitting out so boldly. Not even if it’s Obito who’s begging him to take back his words.

“It is,” he insists.

Obito opens his mouth, to fire back, to give Sasuke a verbal lashing, but the Hokage interrupts before he can speak.

“Excuse me for doubting your words, Sasuke, but Obito has a point. He killed Madara years before the Uchiha massacre. I’m inclined to trust the opinion of the person who’s seen Madara first hand, over the potential lies Itachi might have showed you.”

Sasuke should have expected this reaction. He really should have. The Hokage was Obito’s sensei, once upon a time. He took Obito in like his own son, grieved for Obito’s loss when that fateful rock slide occurred during the Third Shinobi War. 

It was him who had to stitch Obito back together, when he came crawling back to Konoha a year later, body disfigured by scars and muttering about long-dead clan ancestors.

But if he believed Obito all those years ago, surely, he should believe Sasuke too.

“I can tell the difference between an illusion and a memory,” Sasuke says, slow and calm. He cannot get angry, or every inch of credibility he’s earned will go down the drain. “I have the Sharingan, too, and I know that Itachi was not lying.”

 _His hands were my own,_ Sasuke doesn't say. _When he kissed Madara’s sandaled feet and begged for my life, his words were my own. His steady grip and kunai were mine as he sliced our mother’s throat open._

Sasuke could forgive Itachi for a lot of things, given time. He understands that the deaths of their family were not his fault, that he made the only deal he could with the time he had. Even the lies, Sasuke can forgive.

But his truth was cruel. Sasuke now knows the feeling of matricide like it was his own, and that cannot be absolved.

“Sasuke,” Obito starts again. He’s less angry now, but Sasuke can’t stand it all the same. “I killed Madara myself. Those stories I told you were nothing more than stories. Madara is sll but dust now, and we should all be grateful for it.”

Sasuke frowns in displeasure. He breathes in and out, ten times so he doesn’t say something rash. Obito’s torture at the hands of this madman can’t—shouldn’t—be brushed aside.

But all the same, Obito is only missing one eye. He is not blind and has no excuse.

“You think Uchiha Madara stayed dead?” He asks, staring down Obito with an iron resolve. “This is the man who should have been gone by the time you were born. This is the man who created Zetsu, a hybrid creature with infinite regeneration. This is the man who brought you back from the dead. Who’s to say he can’t come back from the dead, too?”

Obito looks at him with something like shock.

Kushina still has that soft expression on her face, and the Hokage is struggling to maintain his mask of neutrality.

Shikamaru, Neji, and Sai haven’t said a word, and Sasuke realizes belatedly that he has just recounted all of Obito’s trauma in from of them, in front of Obito.

He’ll need to apologize to Obito later, for spilling his secrets so easily.

But not right now. His and Obito’s dirty laundry doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, not when all of Konoha might be at risk from this long-forgotten ghost, this permanent stain on the Uchiha name.

“I’m sorry, Sasuke,” the Hokage says after a beat of silence. “Your story is compelling, and you did the right thing by telling me.”

Sasuke’s breath catches.

“But there are too many unknown factors for me to take your word at face value. My men will keep their ears open for any news, any possible hints of Madara, but we cannot act. And Itachi will remain a criminal of the state, unless further proof is brought to our attention. Do you understand?”

Sasuke realizes that Obito’s hand is still holding his own.

He shakes it free, clenching his fists tight in his lap.

“Yes, Hokage-Sama. I understand.”

And just like that, they are dismissed.

He can feel the boring gazes of the Hokage and Kushina on his back as he exits the room, followed closely by Shikamaru, Sai, Neji, and Obito.

None of them dare say a word.

At least, not until they step outside, off the house grounds and past the manicured hedges and neat rows of flowerbeds.

“Listen, Sasuke,” Obito starts. “Let’s just head home. It’s been a long night, and a longer couple of weeks. We can talk in the morning, once you’re all rested up.”

There’s something in Obito’s tone, the cadence of his voice eerily similar. It’s the way adults talked to Sasuke when he was younger, when he was the “problem child” all fucked up over his brother’s betrayal. Obito never talked to him that way, though.

Sasuke whirls around, all his pent-up rage exploding outwards like a blast of fire.

“Go home, Obito,” he hisses, whip-sharp against the chirping of crickets. “You don’t trust me.”

Obito sighs, and makes a couple fumbling starts to speak again, but Sasuke’s already turned his back. He’s glaring up at the stars above, hoping that if he stares hard enough at those distant blinking lights, of infinite possibilities beyond his grasp, he can will away the tears.

He doesn't entirely succeed.

Sasuke’s not sure how long he waits there, shivering in the cold night air until he feels the flicker of chakra that is Kamui activate.

When he finally turns back around, Obito’s chakra trail fading away, he finds Shikamaru, Sai, and Neji, all standing by with expectant looks on their faces.

“What are you still doing here?” He asks, voice a bit shrill. He wipes at his eyes with his sleeve, hoping they can’t see how red his eyes are in the darkness.

“Waiting for you,” Sai says plainly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He was always good at making Sasuke feel like an idiot, even though Sakura was clearly the smartest person on Team 7 and could talk them both in circles if she wanted to.

“Why?”

“Well,” Shikamaru drawls, hands shoved into his pockets like he’s just going for a pleasant evening stroll. “I figured it would be best to decide as a team what our next step is.”

“In what?”

“In this whole Madara situation.”

Sasuke’s mouth drops open, absolutely dumbfounded.

He can hear Tsunade’s cackling laughter in the back of his head, telling him to close his damn mouth before he catches flies.

He does so, hoping Sai will have the good sense not to make anymore rude comments.

“Didn’t you hear the Hokage? There’s nothing to be done. He didn’t believe me.”

It hurts, to say it out loud.

Shikamaru smiles, small and full of trouble. “That’s not what I heard. The Hokage said he wouldn’t do anything until he had further evidence.”

“We don’t have any evidence! It’s my word against Obito’s, and any person with half a brain cell knows which person to listen to.”

“Don’t be rude, Sasuke. We’re standing right here,” Neji comments. 

Sasuke gives him a long, withering stare.

Shikamaru sighs, clearly bored of the back-and-forth of their vaguely antagonistic friendship. “If nobody is going to listen to you on word alone, then we better get some evidence.”

He cannot believe he’s having this conversation. “Seriously?”

“Keep talking like that, and you might lose our support too,” Neji fires back.

Sasuke chooses to ignore the statement. He can imagine Sakura and Naruto cheering over his shoulder, for the restraint he’s exercising.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?”

Shikamaru rolls his eyes. “Of course. If there really is a crazy, old-as-balls Uchiha walking around, I’d rather we know as much about him as possible.”

“Besides,” Neji tacks on, “I don’t want the person who managed to wipe out almost all the Uchiha in one go to catch me by surprise.”

Not his clan, but him. Sasuke notes that with a mild interest.

“Okay,” Sasuke says. He’s smiling ever so slightly as he says it, looking back at his teammates in excitement.

Of course Sai ruins the moment.

“So where are we getting evidence from? We’re not exactly authorized for any more away missions.”

Huh.

That is a problem.

\----

They agree to meet up by the Hokage Tower at 12:30 AM sharp. Sasuke figures it’s enough time for everyone to get some sleep, but not too late in the day that their search won’t be fruitful.

Breakfast was quiet this morning, Kakashi off on some mission and Obito still a bit apologetic about the night before. Sasuke ate in silence, not bothering to tell Obito about his plans for the day. 

When Obito prompted him for a clearer answer, Sasuke told him he was hanging out with friends. 

It’s true, in a way. And if Obito bothers to check in with Sakura, which he won’t because Sasuke is a grown-ass adult who can handle himself, thank you, she’ll cover for him no questions asked.

Naruto will the do same, if he’s not working or out of town.

He tries not to feel guilty about lying. When he finds proof that Madara is alive, Obito will understand.

So, confident and justified in his actions, Sasuke makes his way to the Hokage Tower for the second time in 24 hours.

Neji is there early, as expected from the model Hyuuga Shinobi. Shikamaru and Sai should be here soon enough.

“So,” he says, greeting Sasuke with a nod, “what’s the plan? I don’t think the Hokage will be too happy if we try to pester him again today.” 

“I’m not that socially clueless,” Sasuke replies. “And besides, we’re not going to the Hokage Tower.”

“Let me guess,” Shikamaru interrupts from behind Sasuke. He jumps—he wasn’t expecting Shikamaru to sneak up on him like that. “We’re heading to the archives.”

Sasuke huffs. At least someone here is on the same page as him.

\----

Technically speaking, the Konoha Archives are a branch of the public library system.

Technically speaking.

The Archives are deep underground, tucked neatly in between the Hokage Tower, the ANBU Training Center, and the Shinobi Human Resources Central Office. Its three-foot-thick steel walls and reinforced concrete protected it from Pein’s attack where nearly everything else this close to downtown was destroyed.

This is where all records of missions are stored, along with various legalese and forbidden scrolls. 

As opposed to the Main Branch Downtown, which also keeps historical books, old newspapers, and chakra theory research, the Archives are more confidential.

Confidential to the point that Sasuke has never actually been here before. None of them have, not even Shikamaru.

Of course, it’s entirely possible for civilians to get access, but the application process is rigorous, with full background checks and multiple packets of paperwork, so most don’t bother.

Jounin-level Shinobi are given blanket clearance, with a few select restrictions on recent additions or missions still in effect.

Sasuke doesn’t anticipate that being a problem, because the Uchiha Massacre happened years ago. And if anyone deserves to have access to that information him, it’s him. No pencil-pushing, retired Chunin or uppity librarian is going to tell him differently.

The only thing he didn’t anticipate was the scale of this place.

“How are we supposed to find one scroll in this mess?” Sai complains.

He has a point. The Archives are cavernous and dark, with high ceilings and endless rows of shelves, disappearing into darkness. Dotted all along the perimeter are doors to stairwells and back room, which tunnel off and descend down.

Taking a cursory glance at one of the nearest shelves, Sasuke’s jaw drops open in shock. The codes inscribed on the nearest books and scrolls are unfamiliar, scribbled in symbols and numbers that he’s never seen before.

Sasuke is used to the standard library classification system used in all the other branches, where things are grouped by genre in letter code, followed by more specific subcategories, and finally a letter for author and a number for the date. It’s confusing at first but doesn’t take too long to get used to. 

This, by comparison, is completely inscrutable. Sasuke pulls two scrolls off the shelf with similar looking codes. One is a tragicomedy play about two lovers from warring clans during the First Shinobi War. The other is an instruction manual for sawmill repair.

He has absolutely no clue how they’re related.

With a growing sense of dread, he turns around to face the rest of the squad.

“I don’t know how they organize materials here,” he admits. “But we can ask one of the librarians for help.”

Shikamaru sighs and points over to the main desk next to the entrance. Behind the desk sits an old lady, glowering at them with a look that could kill. Between the books piled high on either side of her desk is a mess of yarn, which Sasuke belatedly realizes is a knitted scarf or some other garment. He can’t quite tell if she’s using knitting needles or senbon.

“On second thought,” he whispers so he doesn’t incur the wrath of the librarian, “let’s just split up and search.”

Neji nods. “You and I can take the west wing, and Shikamaru and Sai can take the east.”

“How do we know what we’re looking for?” Sai asks. “We could spend all month in this place and still not read through everything.”

Shikamaru beats Sasuke to the response. “We’ll look for anything possibly related to the massacre. Similar dates, death records, even clan history. It’s got to be related to the scrolls it’s surrounded by in some way.”

He breathes a sigh of relief, glad Shikamaru is on the same page as him.

“Exactly. Meet back here in two hours if you haven't found anything, and we can go from there.”

Shikamaru mutters something under his breath. The only part which Sasuke catches is the word “troublesome,” but true to his word, Shikamaru hauls Sai off towards the east side of the library.

Neji nods at Sasuke, and then they’re heading west.

\----

Shelving another scroll back into its place, Sasuke sighs in frustration. It had seemed promising from afar, centered neatly in between books about familicide and trauma among underage Shinobi.

Imagine his disappointment when he found out it was a scroll on the psychological impacts of the Sharingan on its users, rather than its victims. Fascinating stuff, and something he’ll definitely bring up with Obito when he has time, but it’s just not what Sasuke is looking for.

Across from him, Neji shoves a book back into its place, cursing in frustration. Sasuke catches the title out of the corner of his eye and isn’t surprised to find that it’s about the Hyuuga and their curse seal practices.

He chooses not to say anything. As much as Shikamaru, Sai, and Neji might all be here to help Sasuke, he knows they have their own lives and their own shit to deal with. He doesn’t mind if Neji takes a little time to dig into his own clan’s tainted past.

‘Let’s try another aisle,” he suggests, startling Neji out of his wallowing. “I don’t think we’re getting anywhere here.”

“Sure.” Neji looks back, a small smile on his face. “I was getting tired of reading about inbreeding, anyways.”

Sasuke laughs, and they make their way out of the closely packed rows, walking shoulder-to-shoulder despite the tight quarters.

Two rows down, Sasuke finds a section on genocide. There’s multiple volumes and editions on the destruction of Uzushio, but Sasuke refrains from pulling them out. He knows enough about the history from Naruto, and from the public memorial greenhouse in the hills overlooking town.

Neji doesn’t pull out any of the scrolls either, a silent understanding passing between them.

Ten more aisles down, and Sasuke is growing frustrated. It’s dusty back here, and each time he pulls the books in this area off the shelf, he sneezes loudly enough that he’s worried a librarian will ambush him.

The scrolls back here must be over fifty years old, but the entire section is dedicated to the Uchiha, and that’s enough to go on for Sasuke to keep on digging around.

Catching a red-sealed scroll out of the corner of his eye, Sasuke turns quickly, eyes scanning over the name Uchiha and the confidential seal on the side of it.

He pulls it off the shelf with a growing sense of excitement and fear.

And comes face to face with a set of eyes on the other side of the shelf. That familiar shape and those blue, blue eyes, which Sasuke would recognize across a battlefield or at a dinner table.

“Naruto?”

It comes out squeakier than he wanted, loud in the echoing chamber of the Archives’ first floor.

Naruto grins and holds a finger to his lips. Somewhere behind him, Sasuke can hear Neji sigh in annoyance. If he makes himself look any dumber, he’ll never hear the end of it.

At least Sai’s not here.

There’s a soft shuffling, and then Naruto appears at the end of the aisle, making his way towards them like he owns the damn place.

 _Maybe he does,_ Sasuke thinks snidely. _His father’s the Hokage._

“So,” Naruto starts after a moment, eyes roving over the shelves like he’s a bit uncomfortable. “What are you guys doing down here?”

Sasuke blinks, and it’s only thanks to Neji’s elbow in his back that he remembers to speak.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Naruto tilts his head in curiosity, waiting for something more.

“We’re looking into the Uchiha Massacre.”

“Oh.” He sounds apologetic, like he forced Sasuke to answer or something.

“No,” Sasuke cuts him off. “It’s not like that. I have a suspicion that Itachi wasn’t behind the massacre.”

Naruto’s blond eyebrows shoot up, wrinkling his forehead. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

Behind him, Neji coughs. 

Sasuke is _really_ never gonna live this down.

“Itachi told me. When we were on our mission.” _This must sound like crazy talk,_ he thinks desperately. “We ran into him, and he showed me his memories.”

“God, Sasuke, I’m so sorry.” And Sasuke believes him. This doesn’t sound like the fake sympathy people normally use to get out of uncomfortable conversations, or the simpering tone girls back at the Academy employed to try to get into his good graces. Naruto is earnest.

“If there’s a bright side to any of this, it’s that now I know that Itachi is innocent.”

Naruto smiles, dim and small in this dark place underneath the military machine that is Konoha.

But the smile flickers, giving way to another confused look.

“If Itachi didn’t kill everyone, then who did?”

“Uchiha Madara.”

And for all that Naruto looks like his parents, he doesn’t react the way they did last night.

His eyes widen and his jaw drops, and Sasuke might be smug that he finally made Uzumaki Naruto speechless, if only the news he was delivering was positive.

“It’s pretty unbelievable,” Neji comments.

Sasuke shoots him a look.

Naruto doesn’t seem to notice. “So, you’re here because…”

“Because we need hard evidence that Madara killed my family.”

Sasuke refrains from mentioning Madara’s possible connection to Akatsuki, or Obito’s past, or his creation of Zetsu. Anything Jinchuuriki related is bound to sway Naruto in one direction or the other, and Sasuke wants his trust and belief, given freely without persuasion and manipulation. Sakura too, when he gets a chance to talk to her.

It doesn’t make up for Obito, but it might feel good still. 

Naruto turns towards the shelves, staring them down with narrowed eyes like they threatened his family.

“You...do know that you’re nowhere near the right place for records on the Uchiha Massacre, right?” He asks dryly, raising one eyebrow.

“I told you!” Neji exclaims.

“You didn’t tell me shit!” Sasuke fires back.

Naruto watches them with patience befitting a saint, uncaring of the way they’re all squished into this row now, and one gesture too big from Sasuke or Neji might smack him in the face.

Neji sticks his tongue out at Sasuke like he’s fucking five years old, and Sasuke responds in turn, because he’s never backed down from a challenge before, and he certainly won’t now against some pretty-boy Hyuuga.

After a few more moments of back-and-forth taunting, Sasuke turns back to Naruto.

“Would you mind showing us the way?” He asks, using his _‘I help old ladies cross the street’_ voice.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Naruto replies, easy and cool. And just like that, he’s striding back out of the aisle, not bothering to check that Sasuke and Neji are following him.

“The Archives are organized in a different system than the rest of Konoha’s libraries,” Naruto explains, passing by a row that Sasuke and Neji spent twenty minutes digging through earlier.

“I figured,” Sasuke grumbles. He’s not the kind of person to admit he’s a nerd, but he’ll be damned if anyone accuses him of not knowing the library call system.

“It’s a good system, don’t get me wrong. But all of the other libraries categorize by their current collection, not by the entire canon of literature and articles.”

Sasuke nods. He’s noticed it before, where Konoha’s shelves are packed with local books nearly identical in code. He’s traveled around enough to know that books in other regions should be stuffed between those sections, if only Konoha owned those books and scrolls.

“In the Archives,” Naruto continues, “they keep everything. The system has to be flexible enough to slide in new additions wherever they fit while also being comprehensive enough that someone can find the material they’re looking for.”

“A needle in a haystack,” Neji offers.

Naruto turns around, giving him a thumbs up that looks eerily like Gai or Lee’s signature pose. “Exactly! So, the Archives go by date first. Between years, they group by genre and subject, followed by author’s last name.”

Huh. That isn’t nearly as complex as Sasuke thought.

“Who taught you all of this? Your mom?” He asks. For all the years of friendship between him and Naruto, he never knew Naruto was so knowledgeable about library and archival systems, let alone that he came down here enough to do all of this.

Naruto snorts. 

“Definitely not my mom. She doesn’t have the patience for places like these. No, I kinda… taught myself? A few years ago, I needed to find some legal precedents for a bill I was helping some council members draft, and my research took me here. I’ve been using the Archives ever since.”

“You must have been determined,” Neji offers.

“I guess I was. I didn’t think about it that way at the time.”

No, he probably wouldn’t have. Naruto is ruled by fear and passion in turn, and whichever one of those lead him here, Naruto wouldn't have called it determination. But that’s always how it manifests, with Naruto.

“Is that what you’re here for now?” Sasuke asks. “Legal and historical texts?”

“No, actually.” Naruto looks back at them, something open in his face. “I was looking into some older works about Jinchuurikis and the Kyuubi’s abilities. Pein’s attack helped me realize that I’ve been denying an important part of myself for a long time.”

It’s strange, to hear this vulnerability from Naruto. He sounds like he did when they were thirteen and angry and awkward, willing to share his troubles with anyone who took the time to listen. But where Sasuke feels he’s grown more open with time, Naruto grew more closed off, until he was unrecognizable to even Sasuke.

The publicity of his status as a Jinchuuriki and the insanity of Konoha being rebuilt from the ground up have probably given Naruto some time to undo his former habits.

He looks happier for it. 

Sasuke is happy for him.

“I’m glad,” he finds himself saying. 

Naruto veers off down an aisle suddenly and without warning. Sasuke barely stops in time, and Neji walks right into his back, both them grunting in surprise.

“Here we are,” Naruto announces from down the row.

The three of them get to work.

\----

No less than thirty seconds later, Sasuke is pulled out of his intense searching by a triumphant cry from Naruto.

“Found it!” He calls out, hoisting the red-taped scroll out in one hand. 

Sasuke rushes over, eager to protect the secrets of his family’s demise from Naruto or Neji’s well-intentioned and prying eyes.

Accepting the scroll from Naruto, he fiddles with the label for a moment.

“It’s sealed shut,” he notes.

“Makes sense,” Naruto replies. “They seal all the confidential scrolls. Pretty much anything with sensitive information will be given higher clearance.”

It’s nice to know that no one’s been snooping around with the report from the worst night of Sasuke’s life, but if anyone deserves have access, it should be him. It irks him, to think that events he was an eyewitness to are labeled state secrets so easily.

“How do we gain access?” Neji asks, already one step ahead of Sasuke.

Naruto eyes the scroll. “You have to take it up to the front desk and request clearance. They’ll probably put you in an individual room to examine it, and seal it up at the end of your session.”

“Great,” Sasuke says. He’d like to see any of the librarians try and stop him from reading the report.

\----

They end up splitting up. Neji wanders off in an attempt to find Shikamaru and Sai, who are either working hard or slacking off. Either way, they’re still deep in the bowels of the Archives, which means it’s going to take a considerable amount of time to find them.

That leaves Sasuke and Naruto to the actual examining of the records.

It’s almost too easy to request access in a private room. The scary librarian at the front desk, some different old lady than the one Sasuke saw before, takes one look at his face and Naruto’s doe eyes and sweet voice, and takes them down a winding hallway. She unseals the scroll with little flourish and leaves them to it.

Sasuke stares down at the now open scroll in his hands, trembling a little at the magnitude of the papers sealed away inside.

But Uchiha Madara is out there somewhere, and his hands are the hands that tortured Obito for a year straight, and he is the reason Sasuke has lost everything. He’s lost Itachi because of Madara, too.

“Am I crazy?” He asks, feeling as small and vulnerable as he did on that night so many years ago.

Naruto looks up from his place across the table, a question on his face.

“Am I crazy for searching? For believing in a ghost story?”

He hangs his head low, eyes boring holes into the scroll’s filing code.

“I wonder if I could trick myself into believing something like this. If I could be so desperate to prove Itachi innocent that my own mind lied to me.”

Naruto hums, reaching out over the table to grasp Sasuke’s hands.

He stares down at it, the way their fingers intertwine over the yellowed paper.

“I never knew Itachi,” Naruto admits. “I didn’t know you before all of it happened either.”

Very few people did, outside of his own family. He was too young to have many outside friends.

“But I know you now, Sasuke. I know that you’re too honest to be a good Shinobi.”

“Harsh,” Sasuke mutters, a bitter smile pulling at his cheeks. 

“Let me finish.”

“Fine,” he replies, trying not to roll his eyes.

“You are honest, Sasuke. Honest with others, and even more so with yourself, and sometimes the intensity of it scares people. They don’t think or feel half as deep as you do.”

“Weird compliment, but okay.” There’s something in Naruto’s eyes that makes Sasuke shift in his seat, uncomfortable under the attention.

“You love people wholeheartedly, with every fiber of your being. And if they don’t put in equal commitment, you drop them faster than Ino gets new boyfriends.”

Sasuke stifles a laugh.

“Are you crazy? Are you so blindly devoted to Itachi that you’d lie to yourself, your friends, and all of Fire Country? You tell me.”

Sasuke knows the answer.

“No.”

“Exactly.” And with that, Naruto leans back, taking the warmth of his hand and his presence with him.

Slowly, Sasuke unfurls the scroll. It’s thick and dusty, a cohesive file of everything that investigative Shinobi could find on the massacre. That means first-hand accounts, photographs, and autopsy reports. 

It’s going to take him hours to get through it all, especially when he doesn’t have the eye for these sorts of things. Sasuke’s not even sure he’d be able to pick out if something was amidst amongst the all the police jargon and legal terminology.

“Hey Naruto?”

“What?”

“Would you mind helping go through this? I’m not sure I’ll be able to understand it on my own.”

Naruto nods. 

\----

Neji, Sai, and Shikamaru show up about ten minutes later, out of breath and bewildered but enthusiastic to help Sasuke with his search.

Shikamaru, as luck would have it, is also pretty adept at sorting through mission reports, so he volunteers to check through everything that everyone else has already cleared, just as a preliminary step.

They work in silence, only the sounds of shuffling papers and an occasional question disturbing the uneasy peace. 

Sasuke tries to ignore the growing discomfort he feels deep in his chest.

 _It’s just business,_ he tells himself as he reads through an analysis on the stabs wounds found on one of his older cousins.

Behind him, there’s a frantic flipping through of papers and a quiet gasp.

Sai speaks up.

“What did they do with the bodies, Sasuke?” He asks, voice urgent in a way Sai never is, even in dire situations on high-ranking missions. His ability to keep cool is what vaulted him up to part-time ANBU where so many of his fellow classmates stayed at Jounin.

Sasuke wracks his brain, trying to remember what Obito told him in between hospital visits all those years ago.

“They burned them,” he settles on after a moment. He has a hazy memory of his great-grandfather being cremated when he was a young child, dark wooden casket and all. His mother told him it was a sacred Uchiha ritual, to use their fire-breath passed down from ancient dragons on the dead. 

Sasuke, at age six, never would have been able to cremate them all. He couldn’t now, the chakra and lung capacity required to burn an entire clan impossible for anyone who walks this earth.

“We burned remains,” he affirms. “That way, people couldn’t harvest our eyes after we died.”

Neji nods. “Something similar is done in the Hyuuga Clan.”

Sai glances down at the stack of papers in his hand, running his fingertips along the edges. 

“I don’t think they did.”

“Let me see,” Shikamaru interrupts, snatching the papers out of Sai’s hands.

Sasuke tracks his eyes as they scan the page, reading fast as Sakura the day before a med school midterm. He waits with bated breath. They all do.

“He’s right.”

“What do you mean?” Naruto asks, voice sharp. 

“The report never actually got filed. It says the bodies were intended for cremation at a funeral home on the edge of town, but the Hokage’s signature and the Konoha stamp of approval is absent.”

“Who was the supervisor?” Sasuke asks.

Sai’s mouth flattens into a thin line, the closest he ever gets to rage.

“Shimura Danzo.”

Naruto butts in before anyone else has a chance. “Shimura Danzo, as in Council of Elders Danzo?” 

Sasuke knows the name, too. He knows that this council member was one of the Sandime’s own teammates, his reliability earning him a spot on the council more than any skill or charisma.

He’s heard both Naruto and Tsunade curse the man out after meetings, complaining about him being too old fashioned, too stagnant for Konoha and its fast-growing public sector. A real member old the old guard, the kind who reminisce about the wars like times were simpler back then.

And he knows that Sai knows Danzo, too. There was a scandal that leaked a few years back, about a suspended project for a paramilitary force in Konoha. The child soldiers part got mostly glossed over, and the whole situation was hushed up pretty quickly before anyone could truly investigate Danzo’s role. 

But there was an influx of kids who showed up those last two months at the Ninja Academy, graduating alongside the clan kids and civilians like Sakura, despite the fact that no one had seen these orphans at school before that moment.

Sai was one of them. He never explained in depth what had happened to him as a child, but Sasuke could see the way he clammed up around authority figures, the weird robotic tone of voice he used in unfamiliar situations.

Maybe Danzo’s always been a corrupt bastard.

“And there’s really no signature from the Hokage?” Neji asks.

Shikamaru shakes his head.

“That’s not too strange,” Naruto says, a finger on his chin like he’s thinking the whole thing through. “Oftentimes newer Shinobi will forget to get their reports signed off, and the Hokage doesn’t always catch it.”

“Obito wouldn’t have caught it either,” Sasuke adds. “He was too busy watching me.”

Shikamaru frowns. “But Danzio isn’t an inexperienced Shinobi. He’d been sitting on the Council for years by the time this report was filed.”

“They caught Orochimaru the same way,” Sai whispers, a creeping anger in his voice. “With paperwork and legal loopholes.”

And Sasuke is flooded with images of his family member’s corpses desecrated in some lair tucked into the mountains, organs stuffed in jars and bodies out in the open, disrespected even beyond death.

There have been many who’ve tried to harvest the Sharingan. The thought of someone from his own village succeeding stabs like a thousand kunai. 

“Let’s go,” Naruto says, rolling up a scroll with more aggression than necessary.

“What are we doing?” Sasuke asks, too distracted by the pictures in his head of his parents, never properly put to rest.

“I'm going to speak to the Hokage.” There’s an air of authority in Naruto’s voice that no one questions or dismisses. He’s angry.

Sasuke is angry too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The system described for the Konoha libraries is loosely based off of the library of congress organization system. Idk what the archive one is.
> 
> Also! Next chapter might take a bit more than a week to publish, because life is crazy. I'll try my best though. I made myself a tumblr mostly for writing updates and other creative stuff along those lines so check that out if you want. Prospider.tumblr.com


	11. The Abyss Gazes Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something must be broken in my brain, because I saw that the word count for this chapter is 6k and thought, "Oh man it's a short one."

It takes two days for the situation to work its way through the Shinobi chain-of-command. 

Much to his frustration, Sasuke doesn’t see any of it. Any other village, any other complaint, and maybe he’d get to take Danzo to court for his transgressions against Sasuke’s family.

But under martial law, Danzo has committed treason. The last time this happened, the Sandaime and the Yondaime banished Orochimaru from the village. They’ll follow the exact same procedure they did then.

Objectively, Sasuke can understand the need for privacy. With Danzo in such a high position in the village hierarchy, his trial will occur behind closed doors where there won’t be risk of any more state secrets getting out. He’s probably already been arrested and detained by T&I, where he’ll be questioned. The Hokage will appoint an unbiased investigatory council, and they, with the approval of the Hokage, will settle on a punishment if Danzo is found guilty. It’s going to be difficult to get neutral volunteers—Danzo laid roots in Konoha many, many years ago. Now, his actions threaten to destroy their newly-built foundation. 

But Sasuke won’t know about any of it.

Naruto walked out of Konoha’s Archives with Sasuke’s precious folder in hand, the air around him practically boiling with his silent anger. He stormed right in to the Hokage Tower from across the street, and no one else followed him in.

Sasuke tried. But just as he was hot on Naruto’s heels, Sai and Shikamaru pulled him back. 

He screamed and kicked and thrashed around, but their grips were iron. It must have been a scene to Konoha natives and tourists alike, the strange Uchiha boy yelling and convulsing like a tailed beast had possessed his soul. 

He imagines some were smug. All those years and all that weight, and he’d finally cracked under the pressure. The same insanity that supposedly lurked under his brother’s skin must have gotten to him too.

He can vaguely recall Neji directing people away, getting pushy with a few clueless civilians who couldn’t take the hint, but Sasuke didn’t care. His thoughts were consumed by the images of his parents on concrete slabs somewhere beneath the city, eyes gouged out and skin tinted green from rot and experimentation. Or piled high in some shed on the Uchiha compound, closed off to all but Sasuke, who would never set foot in there anyways.

Eventually he collapsed, going limp. His sobs were quiet by then, and only Sai’s arms tucked neatly under his armpits held him up.

They must have walked him home, but he can’t remember it. Shikamaru had whispered something about “standard protocol” over and over again, but he didn’t sound so sure.

And then Obito was there. He heard a hushed conversation behind his bedroom walls, but Sasuke was so very tired by then. He couldn’t strain his ears against his soft pillow and heavy blankets. He thought maybe the front door slammed open.

Kakashi was seated by his bed the next day, the book that Naruto was named after in hand. He said nothing, but Sasuke didn’t want to say anything either.

Sakura visited that evening. In between her mother henning and botched cooking attempts that Kakashi interrupted with a box of hot pizza, she talked. 

“Ino won’t tell me anything,” she confessed anxiously. “I grilled her as hard as I could, Sasuke. Hell, I even gave her my best puppy-dog eyes.” She tapped her fingers against the kitchen table, eyes still not meeting Sasuke’s. “She won’t budge, not on matters that involve Torture and Investigation.”

“Good,” Kakashi said, punctuating his words with the slam of a book. “I’d hate for the new generation of Yamanakas to be shitty at their jobs.”

Sakura glared at their teacher, her scowl enough to make grown Shinobi tremble in their boots.

Sasuke couldn’t muster the energy to laugh at the scene before him.

“Anyways,” Kakashi continued, patting Sasuke’s arm as he walked by, “it won’t be long for them to finish up. Two days at the most—any longer and the investigation may be jeopardized by politics or publicity.”

Sasuke clung to those words all through the next day, during Team Gai’s impromptu visit and Sai’s shitty political cartoons passed over by way of Sasuke’s windowsill.

There was still no sign of Naruto or Ino or Obito. 

It was strange, to have Obito absent so suddenly. Was Obito a neutral enough voice to be present at the meetings, or did he hold so much of Hokage’s favor that he could get away with anyways?

No matter the answer, Sasuke was somewhat glad Obito was there. He knew that at least one person there would be fighting for Sasuke’s side—Naruto and Ino, too.

Two sleepless nights and three restless days after Sasuke’s fateful trip to the Konoha Archives, a decision is made.

Sakura and Naruto ring the door at 2 P.M.

Sasuke just happens to answer the door before Kakashi does, so he takes the news in his own foyer.

Naruto speaks first.

“We got him, Sasuke.”

A pause of silence as he stares at the two of them in shock.

“That sick bastard is gonna be in jail for the rest of his life,” Sakura says, an air of finality in her voice.

Sasuke pulls them both into a tight hug before anyone can say another word.

\----

“He’s being moved from T&I to the containment facilities on the edge of town,” Sakura explains gently, once they’re seated at the kitchen table.

“They’ll hold a press announcement by the Hokage Tower,” Naruto adds. “The Yondaime will read out a list of the crimes Danzo has been found guilty of so far, including experimentation on the Uchiha. I’m not sure if Tsunade or Shikakau or one of the other elders will announce the punishment, but they’ll all be around for questions afterwards.”

“Do I have to be there, too?” Sasuke asks, already imaging the flash of the cameras and the unstoppable tide of probing questions. He wants to know what Danzo has done to his family.

The archived report said everything it needed to say to implicate a powerful man like Shimura Danzo. But in actual details, it came up short. Beyond the empty place where the Hokage’s stamp should be, beyond the vague and nightmarish speculations Sasuke’s been making for these past three days, he knows very little.

“No,” Naruto says, voice urgent like he’s nervous Sasuke will snap is he’s pushed any further. “You’re not the only victim of Danzo’s cruel machinations, though you’re the first we’ve actually found proof for.”

Sasuke looks up in confusion.

He thinks of Sai’s disgusted reactions to the report and the way he spotted the name so easily. There was that scandal, around a decade ago.

“Danzo might have already been declared guilty, but the City of Konoha is pursuing further investigations,” Naruto continues. “We don’t know how far his influence has extended, or what else he’s managed to conceal, but I promise you the Independent Committee and the Justice Department are going to dig up all of it. No stone will be left unturned by the time we’re done.”

Sasuke nods and tries not to cry from relief. 

It’s strange, how this man he barely even knew of three days ago has inflicted so much harm, onto the Uchihas and beyond. 

“What did he do with them?” he asks, blunt and confrontational.

Sakura shifts nervously, tucking a couple strands of hair behind her ear. “They won’t say. They won’t even let that information out to the public when Danzo’s arrest is announced, out of respect for the dead.”

“What about me?” 

Sasuke is sick and tired of people lying to protect him. He has to know. 

Naruto and Sakura stare each other down, the tense silence and Sasuke’s frustration growing with each second. Finally, Naruto sighs and speaks.

“You’ll have to make an appointment with the Hokage. There’s a lot of paperwork and complicated non-disclosure agreements, but if you do it all, he’ll go over their findings with you. Photographs, reports, even taped confessions from Danzo.”

Sasuke sags in his seat. First Madara and now this. It seems like he’s never going to get to the bottom of the Uchiha Massacre, with Konoha so determined to bury those secrets in more red tape and bureaucracy.

He supposes Itachi wouldn’t know anything more about Danzo. Besides, Sasuke has no way of contacting him, and no way of knowing if Itachi truly was telling the truth about Madara. 

The further he moves away from that mission, the less certain he is of Itachi’s testimonial. 

Sasuke looks up at his two closest friends, disappointment clear on his face. 

Naruto is smiling at him, the same way he used to grin before pranking Sakura with a newly-invented scroll.

“Paperwork is a bitch,” he muses, titling his head to one side, “but I like to think I’m good at it. If we play our cards right, we could get you into a meeting with the Hokage by Friday.”

Sasuke laughs, a bit startled and a bit relieved. He forgets sometimes, that he has friends in high places.

On days like today, it pays off.

\----

He promises to meet them outside of Ichiraku at four, and together, he, Naruto, and Sakura will walk up to the Hokage Tower to see Danzo’s sentence.

Sakura and Naruto were hesitant to agree at first, but Sasuke knows what he wants. After twelve years, the least he deserves is a bit of closure. With Itachi on the run and Madara's presumed dead status, this is the closest Sasuke will get.

He dons a pair of jeans and a dark gray hoodie, hoping the change in fashion will help him disguise himself from the other peering eyes that are sure to be in attendance.

He should have realized it was a moot point because by the time Naruto and Sakura arrive at Ichiraku, Sasuke’s presence is already drawing attention and whispers from civilian customers seated at the outside table.

Three days since Danzo was arrested, and everybody in the whole town seems to know about it.

Sasuke supposes it only makes sense. Konoha’s entire livelihood is based around the institution of lying.

Naruto saunters up to counter where Sasuke is bent over and snatches his glasses off before Sasuke can flinch.

“The sun is setting soon,” he says in a pinched tone like he’s trying to hold back laughter. “Why are you wearing sunglasses?”

“Because I’m trying to be discreet,” Sasuke growls. He rips the sunglasses out of Naruto’s unresponsive hands and tucks them into his pocket. “Clearly, you didn’t get the memo.” He pulls at Naruto’s bright orange t-shirt, loud and obnoxious in a way only Naruto can get away with.

“It’s called fashion!” Naruto yells. His cheeks are beginning to flush red in embarrassment, and Sasuke feels a faint twinge of fondness at the sight. “At least my wardrobe extends past monochromatic colors.”

There’s a movement on Sasuke’s left side, and suddenly, Sakura between the two of them and pushing them apart.

“Maybe,” she says, low and dangerous in that _don’t-fuck-with-me_ voice, “You’d both draw less attention if you could avoid fighting for more than five minutes at a time.”

Naruto leans back in his seat, rolling his eyes. “It’s called banter, Sakura. A philistine like yourself wouldn’t understand.”

And before Saukra can retaliate, most likely with a punch hard enough to shatter earth, Naruto is sliding from his chair and out of the restaurant.

If he thinks a city street and passerby eyewitnesses are enough to keep Sakura’s wrath at bay, Naruto is going to be greatly disappointed.

\----

The Square is crowded, more crowded than Sasuke has ever experienced. He’s seen photographs though, from the Yondaime’s Hokage Ceremony. It looked a bit like this.

The three of them are out in the open, boxed in by people on every side, and they got here early.

They’re still at least 500 feet away from the raised podium that the Hokage and the Council of Elders are standing at. 

Sasuke can see the Hokage’s hair lit up like a shining beacon against the setting sun, which is thankfully to Sasuke’s back. That’s about all he can make out amongst the crowds.

He can’t imagine how well Sakura’s faring, or even Naruto, who never really seemed to shoot up like the rest of the boys their age. He supposes it makes sense, seeing how Kushina isn’t very tall either.

Either way, Sasuke hopes it’ll quiet down soon, because none of them will know what’s happening from visual cues alone. The broad-shouldered Jounin standing in front of them have made sure of that.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of people getting closer and closer, elbowing into Sasuke’s sides and breathing down his neck and averting their eyes from his gaze, The Hokage steps up to speak.

A silence falls across the assembled crowd.

“Good evening,” he says, voice carefully neutral. It’s the professional tone he always uses in public announcements. All traces of his typical good humor are gone. “As I’m sure many of you have heard already, three days ago, Shimura Danzo of the Council of Elders was placed under arrest by the state of Konoha.”

Gasps break out all around them, civilians and Shinobi alike gasping in shock at the downfall of such an authority figure. Sasuke wonders how many allies Danzo has in this crowd, how far his corruption and dirty dealings extend into the village. Or maybe there are more enemies than allies here.

“A separate investigatory panel was assembled and tasked with finding the exact nature and degree of Danzo’s crimes.”

Across the stage, the Hokage nods to a small group of people, fronted by Shikaku and Tsunade. Sasuke isn’t surprised to see them up there, but Obito is nowhere to be found. If he wasn’t on the investigation council, then where was he these past few days?

The Hokage pulls a scroll open, holding it up against the fading sunlight.

“Shimura Danzo, under Konoha martial law, has been charged with the following crimes: Forgery and Abuse of Authority.”

_Using his title to get around standard protocol, actively impersonating the Hokage’s signature or avoiding it on paperwork._

“Child Abuse and Human Experimentation.”

_Sai and the other orphans._

“Creation of Unauthorized Paramilitary Forces.”

Sasuke’s brain comes up blank. Around him he hears whispers of something—Root?

“Defilement of Human Corpses.”

_The Uchiha._

“First-Degree Murder.”

He doesn’t have names or victims in mind, but Sasuke isn’t surprised. 

“High Treason against the Village of Konoha.”

A superfluous charge, really, just confirmation of all his previous crimes. 

The Hokage snaps the scroll shut, passing it off to some civilian intern who dutifully carries it off the stage.

“Investigations are ongoing, but our preliminary findings are enough to condemn Danzo. He will be imprisoned in Konoha’s Detainment Center until further notice.”

_Detainment Center._

Sasuke scoffs. It’s a fancy word for prison, the same way the Torture and Interrogation branch call themselves T&I. Konoha isn’t in the habit of keeping prisoners—people who commit crimes within Konoha tend to die or escape before they can be properly tried, and even though he hasn’t been to the prison before, Sasuke knows it doesn’t get much use outside of wartime.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Danzo were to be transferred to another Hidden Village for detainment. Keeping him in Konoha runs the risk of him escaping and fucking over the village even worse than he did before. He’s got enough connections to make it happen.

Or, Sasuke realizes, hearing the angry whispers of the crowd around him, the opposite might just happen. All it would take are a couple angry Shinobi who happen to be on shift when Danzo is behind bars. The city would blame his death on old age and stress, but the coroner's report would never be published for the public. It’s happened before, to the rare son-of-a-bitch Shinobi that doesn’t manage to desert in time.

Sasuke doesn’t think he’d care so much if Danzo managed to disappear under the cover of night. Maybe a bit jealous, that he didn’t get to kill the man himself.

The crowd around him shifts, and Sasuke tenses. People are angry and uneasy, and something more is going on.

Up on stage, the Hokage has turned his back.

Ten feet away, a Shinobi in an animal mask pushes their way through the crowd.

“Clear the way!” More ANBU members shout from nearby. 

Some panicked, some begrudging, some confused, the throng of people bends and moves, parting like an ocean until the cobblestone street is revealed between the two sides.

Sasuke finds him swept up in the current and pushed away from where he was standing, until he ends up right on the edge of one side.

A hand is grasping his, and to his right Sasuke can see Naruto, stoic with a slow-burning anger that makes Sasuke shiver in fear.

Another pressure is at his upper back, and there’s Sakura, flanking his left side. Her green eyes are sharp and focused, the way she gets on the battlefield when calculating her next move.

Sasuke turns his eyes in that direction, and finally sees what’s causing the commotion.

Surrounded on all sides by ANBU is Danzo himself, shackled and silent.

They tug on him, pulling him through the parted crowd on his walk of shame. Konoha may have outlawed public executions decades ago, but they are not above citywide shaming. It’s the one situation where Konoha is transparent in their machinations.

“This is barbaric,” Naruto grumbles to himself. 

“He deserves it,” fires back the Shinobi next to Naruto, who just so happened to overhear Naruto’s griping.

Naruto frowns at the stranger. “I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve it.”

The stranger looks over, raising an eyebrow at Sasuke like they’re in on some joke that Naruto doesn’t get.

Naruto tilts his head up at the man and crosses his arms. “I just think parading him around is a bad idea. It’s an unnecessary risk for everyone involved. There’s a lot of people hurting out here, all from Danzo’s actions, but seeing him suffer won’t bring them peace.”

Sasuke looks out at Danzo’s stumbling form, and wonders if he can call this closure.

Danzo, close to Sasuke’s eye level now, close enough that Sasuke could reach out and touch him, looks like utter shit.

His council robes are tattered and stained brown with blood or shit or maybe both. His black, greying hair is greasy and flat, and the torn sleeves of his shirt revel bandages up and down his arms. They’re yellowed and threadbare, a perfect match for the one that covers his right eye and forehead.

The ANBU behind him kicks Danzo forward when he halts in front of Sasuke. 

They, too, turn to look at Sasuke. Through the thin slits of their dragon mask, he sees a flash of red, and then the man is moving again.

Sasuke knows those eyes. He supposes that explains Obito’s prolonged absence.

He wonders if Obito feels closure, being so fortunate as to have the privilege of throwing Danzo in his cell. His gloved hands don’t even shake as they nudge Danzo along, and Sasuke knows without a doubt in his mind that for Obito, revenge and closure are one and the same.

Sasuke sees them overlapped in his mind, set against fantasies of slitting Madara’s throat or smearing his remains across concrete like he did to the Uchihas. Revenge and closure will be one and the same when it comes to finding Madara.

He doesn't know about Itachi, though. 

People have started booing now, their whispers turned to screams and profanities.

“Where was your compassion,” one woman yells, “when I was five and parentless and on the streets?”

“Where did you hide the body?” howls a man, “when my brother disappeared after quitting Root?”

“How far do your lies go?” says someone to Sasuke’s right.

“Did the Sandaime know?” an old lady asks.

“How can we trust the Council ever again?” cries another.

Danzo’s face grows more pinched by the second, his neutral expression collapsing into a sneer that makes Sasuke’s blood boil.

His inhales and steels himself. He has to ask.

“Where did you hide them?” Sasuke says, voice carrying out over the crowd and straight to Danzo’s ears. “Or did you leave my baby cousins’ bodies to rot? Did you defile my mother and carve into my father, like they were dolls to play with?”

The crowd seems to fall silent, nothing more but white noise as Danzo looks back once again at Sasuke.

He glares at Sasuke with that hateful, lone eye, and opens his mouth to scream back.

“I did what I had to do to protect Konoha!” 

He’s crazed, practically frothing at the mouth as Obito reaches over to steady his thrashing form. “You people don’t know war and pain the way we once did! Every passing generation, and your children grow weaker.”

Sasuke thinks of Sai, a junior ANBU member at age eighteen. Itachi and Kakashi both made it at thirteen. Whatever physical strength his brother and guardian may have, Sai makes up for in mental stability.

Sai, who carries the scars of Danzo’s cruelty.

Danzo tugs himself away from Obito, the ANBU guards in front turning around at the sudden motion. There’s the sound of his robes ripping a bit, and Danzo lunges away.

“You are all so blind, so ungrateful for everything I’ve done!”

The next few seconds happen in slow motion, and Sasuke isn’t sure if he’s switched his Sharingan on at the sudden movement, or if it’s just a fear response, but whatever it is, he sees Danzo’s actions in perfect clarity.

The fabric of Danzo’s bandages, already partially ripped off, come unraveled with a tug from Danzo.

He slips off his other sleeve next, and his head coverings after that, all too fast for even Obito to interfere. It’s practiced and easy, like Danzo has done it many times before.

With the last shreds of sunlight shining over downtown, Danzo is laid bare before him.

He glows red.

Not from blood but from eyes.

A hundred eyes embedded into his arms, into his right eye socket, pulling at the skin like boils on a person with the plague.

They blink and come alive, staring back at the crowd of judging glares.

The Uchiha burn their dead out of tradition, so that their bloodline isn’t soiled. But the ones who died in the massacre weren’t cremated. Danzo made sure of that.

And here Sasuke stands, frozen at the sight, because his family’s eyes look back at him. Unique patterns spinning in their Sharingan, smaller eyes for the children, more complex designs on the adults.

They’re ghosts and desecrations and Sasuke’s fears incarnate.

All around him, the screams of the public stop.

They are entranced by the rotating patterns of Danzo’s mutilated form, swept up in whatever mass Genjutsu his stolen Sharingan are casting.

Sasuke, too, is rendered still. 

Danzo takes a step toward him, thunderous and heavy. Another step, and his arms come up.

His hands angle upwards, thumbs out like he means to gouge Sasuke’s eyes out, too. 

Over a decade ago, he would have done this to the others post-mortem. The evidence of this work blinks slowly, right down to the single eyeball resting in each of Danzo’s palms.

And still, Sasuke doesn’t budge. Danzo’s putrid scent reaches his nostrils, a smell of death and decay.

Something snaps in the background, a sound akin to ears popping. A sliver of gray appears before Sasuke’s eyes, a tear in reality that obscures Danzo’s terrible body from his vision.

Another snap, louder than the first, sounds off, and the whole world springs into movement again.

People around Sasuke are really screaming now, terror and panic alike.

Danzo’s body goes limp, his body falling backwards where the ANBU are waiting.

His head, though, rolls forward, coming to a stop at Sasuke’s feet. Two vacant eyes look up at Sasuke, and he tears himself away before he passes out. Not even Sakura’s regeneration seal could fix something so definite as a beheading.

Across the way, amidst a sea of chaotic movement, is a man still as a statue.

Kakashi nods at Sasuke, pulling his mask back over his exposed Sharingan like it never existed in the first place. 

Kamui is gone, and the damage is done.

All that remains is Danzo’s severed head and crumpled body.

\----

He finds his way home eventually, guided by Naruto and Sakura.

They spend the night with him, one tucked on either side of the couch and Sasuke sandwiched in the middle, the way Obito and Kakashi used to do when Sasuke had nightmares as a child.

And as much as Sasuke is expecting to have a hard time sleeping that night, the issue doesn’t even arise.

Maybe he’s just seen too much fucked up stuff to care at this point. 

Maybe this is the closure he’s been dreaming of.

The next morning, Sakura gets up early.

Sasuke blinks awake slowly, stirred by the cold spot her absence has left. It’s still dark outside, and he can hear the faint sounds of someone cooking in the kitchen.

He’s caught somewhere between sleep and consciousness when Sakura appears again, dressed in hospital scrubs. The kitchen light frames her head and shoulders, and in that second, Sakura looks like a guardian angel, sent from the very heavens to watch over Sasuke. With her healing hands, she might as well be.

She approaches him, brushing his bangs off his face and pulling a blanket back over his exposed shoulders.

“I have to go to work,” she whispers. “There’s pancakes in the kitchen for when you two wake up.” She stoops lower, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

Sasuke drifts back to sleep.

\----

Naruto is snoring.

Loudly.

Sasuke’s eyes squint open, blinking against the harsh morning light coming in from the kitchen window.

He must’ve slept in a bit.

“Naruto,” he croaks, shoving the human furnace off of him, “It’s time to get up.”

Naruto is deadweight in his arms. He barely reacts when Sasuke shoves him aside. The second Sasuke lets go to stand up, Naruto comes slumping back over his torso.

With a sigh, Sasuke shoves Naruto away harder. Springing up fast enough to give himself vertigo, Sasuke manages to get off the couch. He can hear a dull thud as Naruto falls off the couch.

“OW!”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, already clambering into the kitchen to grab a set of plates for the cold pancakes on the stove.

A chair squeaks behind him, and when Sasuke turns around, two plates in hand, Naruto is seated.

He still hasn’t opened his eyes, and Sasuke wonders if the sayings about people having eyeballs in the backs of their skulls are true. There would have been a lot more thumping around if Naruto hadn’t looked while making his way to the kitchen.

_Whatever._ It’s none of Sasuke’s business.

He slides a plate across the table and sits down with the other in hand.

“No fork?” Naruto whines, poking at the pancake with his index finger. 

“Shut up and eat.” He doesn’t bother to say more, taking a large bite of his breakfast.

Naruto frowns, picking up the pancake and bringing it to his mouth. He sniffs once suspiciously. “No syrup?”

Sasuke swallows. “Sugar’s bad for your teeth.”

Naruto sighs and takes a bite.

Sasuke follows suit, wincing when he bites down on something hard. Pulling the eggshell from his mouth and shoving it into a balled up dirty napkin on the table, Sasuke puts the pancake back down.

Sakura was never the best at cooking.

“Crap!”

Sasuke looks up, a question on the tip of his tongue.

“I forgot to tell my mom I’d be staying over here tonight.”

“So what?” Sasuke asks. “You’re an adult. You can do what you want.”

Naruto throws his pancake back down onto the plate with a dramatic flourish. “You don’t understand! Uzumaki Kushina is more demon than human. If she doesn’t know where I am for more than twelve hours at a time, she starts destroying things.”

Naruto shivers, looking like he’s facing Pein all over again.

Sasuke opens his mouth to reply, because Naruto is being too much of a drama queen for this early in the morning, but the doorbell rings before he can get a word out.

“I’ll get it,” he says instead, dragging his ass out of the chair and across the apartment.

Wrenching the front door open a bit harder than necessary, Sasuke comes face to face with Five feet and two inches of raw, concentrated Shinobi power.

Speak of the devil, and she will come.

“Sasuke,” Kushina says sweetly, like Sasuke can’t sense the chakra radiating off of her in waves. “I was wondering if you had seen Naruto around. I haven’t talked to him since yesterday, and I was beginning to get a bit worried.” She grits her teeth and the hairs on the back of Sasuke’s arms stand up.

“One moment.” He throws his arms up in an I-come-in-peace-gesture, now very self-conscious about his wrinkled hoodie and sweatpants he slept in.

He looks over his shoulder, back towards the living room and kitchen beyond that.

“NARUTO!” He screams. “YOUR MOM IS HERE.”

“OKAY,” Naruto yells back, a bit softer from farther away. “I’LL BE OUT IN A COUPLE MINUTES.”

“KEEP IT DOWN, UCHIHA,” yells a different voice from upstairs.

“SORRY MR. ITO!” Sasuke replies, tilting his head up.

He looks back at Kushina, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. “Neighbors. What can you do?” 

Kushina stares back blankly, and Sasuke wants to shrivel up and die. The next time he and Naruto are alone, Sasuke’s going to beat the shit out of him for leaving Sasuke alone with his mother.

Finally, a small smile spreads across Kushina’s face, growing bigger and bigger until she’s laughing at Sasuke’s stricken expression.

“I’m sorry,” she says, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had neighbors. Mito’s Estate is a bit…”

“Remote.” Sasuke finishes. Naruto never took him on a tour there, too fearful of his family’s reaction to Team Seven, but Sasuke went on a field trip once, before the Uzumakis came to Konoha.

Kushina nods sincerely.

“And how are you, Sasuke?” She reaches out, laying a steady hand on his shoulder. It feels warm and assuring, not invasive like he expected it to. “I know it’s been a crazy couple of days for you, coming back from such a long mission and dealing with this whole Danzo business.”

She was there, the day Sasuke told the Hokage what he had learned from Itachi. She probably heard firsthand from Naruto what they found in Konoha’s Archives the next day. Sasuke has no doubt she saw Danzo’s horrific display yesterday, and Kakashi’s swift disposal of it.

“I’m not sure,” he says, honest and melancholy. He feels...disappointed at what he’s discovered. If the Uchiha Massacre were a tapestry, he’d have pulled at a thread until the whole thing unraveled. Except, when the whole thing came undone, the yarn he was left with didn’t connect to anything else.

Sasuke is tired of dead ends and false hope.

“Obito is happy,” Kushina tells him. “He thinks there might be some hope in figuring out to what extent Danzo was responsible for the massacre, even if they have to investigate it posthumously.”

Sasuke shakes his head. “He wasn’t—Danzo wasn’t responsible.”

Kushina tilts her head and stares, like Sasuke is a specimen worth studying. It’s the same face Naruto makes when he’s negotiating with politicians.

“It’s not that I’m glad we discovered Danzo’s crimes,” Sasuke explains, spitting out the words before Kushina can interrupt him. “It’s just that...he’s not the person we should be looking at. He’s a vulture, on the scene after the fact to pick at the bodies. He’s not the one who slaughtered my family.”

Kushina remains silent, but Sasuke almost wishes she’d refute him. He must look crazy to her right now.

“I told you. I told the Hokage and Obito and my teammates and Naruto who the real culprit is, but everybody’s already forgotten.”

He thinks of Obito, yelling at him to stop talking about things he doesn’t understand. The expression on his face when Sasuke spoke the name “Madara” fresh out of Obito’s nightmares.

“Or they’re choosing not to believe me,” he mutters, tearing his eyes away from Kushina’s. 

Kushina sighs, tucking a strand of brilliant red hair behind her ear. “I wasn’t there, when Obito was hurt. All I had to go on were Minato’s letters.”

It’s strange, to hear someone else talk about Obito and the Yondaime so intimately.

“But I saw Obito before, and I saw him after. And whatever Madara did for that year, it was beyond imagining.”

Sasuke didn’t know him before, but he’s seen the aftermath too. Twenty years after, and he still sees the fallout from Madara’s torture.

“I don’t know if he can come back from the dead,” Kushina admits. “But we did, so maybe it’s possible for Madara too.”

It makes perfect sense to Sasuke. He knows in his heart and gut that Madara was behind Akatsuki. If he didn’t find a way to bring himself back from the dead, maybe Pein did with the Rinnegan.

“Do you believe me?” Sasuke asks. 

Kushina pulls away, crossing her arm against the stiff morning breeze. “I’m not sure.”

Sasuke sighs in disappointment.

“But Mikoto sent me a letter, a few months before the massacre.”

He’s dumbfounded. 

“Uchiha Mikoto? My mom?” 

“The one and the same. We knew each other as kids. I never spoke or wrote to her that much, but she sent things to me occasionally. Maybe she thought I was a kindred spirit. Maybe she knew I had no one to tell her secrets to.”

Sasuke can’t imagine that. He knows, realistically, that Kushina traveled for a long time, long enough that she abandoned her own son until he was ten. It’s hard to reconcile with the powerful clan that resides in Konoha now. Harder still, to imagine that his sweet mother and the fiery Kushina were acquaintances, let alone friends.

“She told me there were outside pressures. Someone pushing on the Uchiha Clan to rebel against Konoha.”

Sasuke goes stiff. In the memory, Itachi knew Madara before that night. 

Madara praised him for being loyal.

“She never said what the outside pressure was, and by the time I heard about the massacre, it was too late to act.”

Sasuke sighs. Obito said something similar, when Sasuke asked him why he didn’t intervene either.

“I’ve ignored threats before,” Kushina continues, voice growing sharp. “I met Pein once, before he was Pein. I didn’t do anything, though, because he was an Uzumaki, too.”

“And then he destroyed Konoha,” Sasuke adds.

“Don’t make the same mistake I did.” She reaches out, gripping Sasuke’s shoulders hard enough to hurt. Sasuke welcomes the sting. 

“Just because they are your blood does not mean they are your family, Sasuke.”

He learned this lesson long ago, the fateful night where Itachi spared his life on a whim. No shared memory or complicated Genjutsu can change that.

“I will stay vigilant,” Kushina says, finally letting go. “I trust you’ll do the same.”

Sasuke nods. Then, on instinct, he takes Kushina’s hand in his own and shakes it firmly. Kushina reciprocates, not missing a beat. 

It’s a promise now, between the two of them.

Over his shoulder, Sasuke hears someone clearing their throat.

“Are you done yet?” Naruto asks, rolling his eyes like they were the one making him wait. Sasuke’s perfectly happy to let Kushina drag him off.

He doesn’t need any distractions from his hunt. No squad members, overbearing guardians, or corrupt Konoha elders.

Certainly not any ex-boyfriends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I'll try to be back with another update by the end of the week. Then, three or so chapters before the end. Holy smokes. I'm already planning the next two/three stories in this AU, and then I'll probably never write Naruto fic again. Bitterweet :')


	12. Why Does Bad Shit Always Happen to Good People?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sat on this chapter for waaay too long

“We should go on a trip,” Obito says out of the blue one morning.

Sasuke lifts his head up from the cartoon section of the Sunday newspaper, craning his neck around to see if Kakashi has snuck up behind him.

Except, there’s no silver-haired man in the kitchen. He left on some escort mission two days ago.

“Are you talking to me?”

Obito rolls his eye, dog-earing a page in his book and snapping it shut. “Of course I’m talking to you. I’m thinking we leave in two days for a nice little camping trip.”

Sasuke frowns. He and Obito haven’t been on a proper vacation together since he was still in the Ninja Academy and got a couple days off for Spring Break. “Why?”

Obito stands up, carrying his plate over to the sink. “It’s been a crazy couple of weeks for both of us,” he says over the sound of running water. “Some time away from Konoha might be nice.”

Sasuke can’t argue with that. “Where would we go?”

Obito smiles, a little lopsided in a way that pulls the scars on his face taut. “The forest north of Konoha looks awfully nice this time of year. Not too crowded either.”

Sasuke knows the place well. It extends out past the Uchiha Compound, cut by some fast-moving creeks and fading into the foothills and mountains that run east-west through Fire Country. A good place for training or hunting, depending on the tenacity of the visitor.

He was brought out there before he could even walk, his family struggling to change his diapers beneath falling pine needles. Sasuke doesn’t doubt that he and Obito are tough enough to handle a couple days in the wilderness.

Besides, Obito has a good point. Nature has a way of healing and clearing one's mind. 

“Fine,” Sasuke yields. “But you have to get vacation approval for both of us.”

Obito laughs. “Sasuke, please. One word from me, and Minato would change Shinobi regulation uniforms from green to pink.”

“Please don’t.” Sasuke has no doubt Obito could make that happen.

“Another day, then.” Obito straightens himself, and the hair on Sasuke’s neck pricks up as he feels Obito’s Sharingan switching on.

“One more request,” he blurts out, faster than Obito can activate Kamui.

Obito looks back at Sasuke expectantly.

“If you can get the...remains, I’d appreciate it. My family deserves a proper burial.”

He looks away, self-conscious of the request. His name and Obito’s word might open doors, but it’s a big ask. He doubts the eyes can be separated from Danzo’s body, and proper procedure would have them sealed away as evidence in some dusty vault hidden deep within Konoha’s underground administrative complexes.

A flash of energy resonates across the kitchen and Sasuke cranes his neck upwards, making eye contact with Obito. 

Red meets brown, and Obito smiles softly, a bloody juxtaposition to his single Sharingan.

“I’ll make it happen,” he promises.

And then Obito is gone, a tear in reality opening and shutting as fast as Sasuke can blink.

\----

He’s fully packed and ready to go before sunrise on Saturday morning. 

Running through his mental checklist, Sasuke rummages through his bag. He takes careful concern not to crush the power bars tucked beneath his sleeping pack, and worms deeper past some rope and a spare pair of socks, stopping only when he hits the bottom of the bag.

They’ll only be gone for four days, but Sasuke likes to be prepared. Shinobi are accustomed to packing light, often picking utility over comfort. If it comes down between bringing an extra kunai or one’s toothbrush, the proper Shinobi will pick weapon first.

Sasuke has opted for the toothbrush this time around. 

He checks his watch for the third time. It’s almost five now.

Making up his mind, Sasuke marches over to Obito’s room, banging on the door so hard the hinges creak under his fists.

“Obito! If you’re not ready in the next five minutes, I’m leaving without you!”

Sasuke has their schedule carefully planned out, down to the exact time they’re going to set up camp today. It’ll take a while to hike out into the foothills, maybe even more depending on if any of the river crossings are too flooded to pass through. 

Of course, there are ways around that, but Sasuke would rather not kick off his vacation by sprinting all the way up a mountainside. Kamui is an even less desirable option, and they’d have to take multiple stops just to get out of town.

No response to his wake-up call. Sasuke rolls his eyes, laying a hand on the door knob. He’ll drag Obito out of bed and across town by the ear if he has to.

Just as he’s about to turn the knob, the door comes swinging wide, nearly hitting Sasuke in the face as he jumps back.

“I’m ready to go!” yells Obito frantically.

Sasuke looks him up and down. He’s half-dressed, his fly unzipped and his shirt hanging crooked on his shoulders with a tag sticking out. He’s not wearing shoes either, and his hair sticks straight up. It’s the kind of shape Sasuke’s hair often takes, the one that Naruto and Sakura and Sai like to call “duck-butt hair.”

“Five minutes, Obito,” he warns. 

And with that, Sasuke heads back to the kitchen to grab a banana for Obito, humming slightly to the sounds of crashes and cursing coming from down the hall.

He putters about for a bit longer, switching off the lights and closing and locking any windows they might have left open. It’s all a moot point, with the number of traps Obito and Kakashi have laid out over the years, but Sasuke likes to do it anyways. He can pretend he’s just a normal person living a normal life, off on an extended fishing trip because work has been stressful lately. What a colorful fantasy life Sasuke leads.

Finally, the second hand reaches twelve, and Sasuke heads to the foyer.

Obito’s already waiting there, much more put together and better packed than he was five minutes ago. Sasuke’s heard the stories from Kakashi and Gai and a few other Jounin, how Obito was routinely late for practice as a young Genin. He’s had a lifetime of practice when it comes to getting ready in a rush, it seems.

“Do you have the map?”

Obito snorts. “What do the two of us need a map for?”

“We’re not using Kamui if we get lost. Do you have the map?”

Obito sighs, pulling a folded-up paper from his pocket. “Yes, _Mom_.”

Sasuke smiles, all teeth and no love. “That wasn’t so hard. I’d almost think you were stalling, Obito, if you weren’t the one who suggested this trip in the first place.”

“When I said we should go on vacation, I thought I’d still be getting my seven hours of sleep in.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” Sasuke replies, pushing past Obito and shoving open the front door.

“Of course you’d say that—you’re still young and full of energy,” grumbles Obito from over his shoulder.

Sasuke descends down the steps, stopping and turning when he realizes Obito isn’t following him. He waits expectantly, a question on the tip of his tongue and the barest hint of dread in his stomach.

Obito sighs. “Do you have it?”

“Yes.” Sasuke tugs at the left strap on his pack. “Can we go now?”

Obito nods, shutting the front door firmly behind them with an air of finality.

Sasuke’s already walking down the road, scoffing at Obito’s question. The object in question, a wooden chest about the size of a cigar box, is resting neatly in his backpack, packed even more securely with an extra layer of bubble wrap around it.

It was the first object he checked for, and the last he double-checked, important beyond measure. 

After all, he and Obito can’t have a proper burial for the Uchihas if they don’t have any remains to bury.

\----

_Obito had kept his promise, about getting Sasuke the stolen eyes._

_In some winding labyrinth adjacent to the Konoha Archives, a coroner leads Sasuke and Obito to the Shinobi morgue._

_It’s there that the coroner shows them Danzo’s cold and lifeless body, laid out on a metal slab._

_His body is frail and sallow in death, all traces of his stubborn personality and cruel nature wiped clean with the beating of his heart and breathing of his lungs._

_The head is not quite reattached to the shoulders, shadows gathering at the fine line that separates them, where Kakashi had cleaved him in half with Kamui. An unfortunate, if necessary action. Sasuke would much rather have preferred Danzo to burn at the stake or hang for his crimes, or even better yet, rot in prison for all eternity, confronted with his failures._

_At least it was public. The people of Konoha won’t be so quick to extoll Danzo or whisper conspiracy theories, not after his embarrassing and horrific display outside of the Hokage Tower._

_Looking down at Danzo’s resting body, Sasuke feels the embers of rage in his gut. Embers he knows can grow into a blazing fire, if only he bothers to fan them._

_So instead, Sasuke squashes the hate and rage. There is no point, not when his family is dead and Danzo is dead, and the damage is already done. He’s almost glad the mutilations occurred posthumously, so at least his family will never know the extent to which their bloodline and its gifts were defiled._

_Looking down at Danzo’s body, Sasuke feels all the frustration wash away. The divots that once held his family’s eyes are all empty now, just shallow holes in the skin where the coroner has picked the eyes out._

_Were Obito in a different mood, he might have made a joke about swiss cheese. Sasuke wouldn't have appreciated it no matter what mood he was in._

_“Where are they?” He asks, after one last lingering glance at what remains of Danzo._

_The coroner reaches over, pulling a clipboard into her lap. Sasuke’s eyes track her movement to the shelf, where he can see red tinging the corners of the stacked aluminum trays._

_“We’ve identified all the eyes and sorted them out,” she explains, calm and professional. “It wasn’t too difficult, once we pulled out the Uchiha clan’s DNA records and cross-referenced them.”_

_She looks up from her notes, noticing Sasuke’s silence. “Would you like me to show you?”_

_“No.” Sasuke’s sure about this—there’s no point in IDing all of the different names and patterns. He’s had the exact numbers and names memorized for years now. Whether they managed to awaken their Sharingan, or even developed it to the Mangekyo, Sasuke doesn’t care._

_“I just want them all sealed up for transport,” he adds after an awkward pause. “I’m going to dispose of them where Danzo failed.”_

_She nods, not perturbed by his strained voice or unique, possibly illegal request._

_When Obito has said he’d make this happen, he did so thoroughly. The Hokage probably drew up the paperwork himself._

_“Of course,” she says, getting up once more to pull out the trays._

_Sasuke is not squeamish. He’s seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime—a couple of formaldehyde soaked eyes won’t make him flinch._

_There is something about how they’re laid out, though. Laid out and neatly labeled, like a classroom dissection. Devoid of personality and story, much like Danzo’s corpse._

_This whole room is devoid of personality, from its clean white walls and harsh lights to the shiny metal cabinets and lingering antiseptic smell._

_Sasuke’s counting the seconds till he and Obito can get out of here._

_The coroner continues to flip through her paperwork, frowning slightly as she looks through the forms Obito handed her before they entered the room._

_“Legally, we need to cremate the eyes before you leave with them.”_

_Sasuke wants to argue, but Obito beats him to it._

_“That wasn’t the agreement I came to with the Hokage,” he says, a warning in his voice._

_“I understand that,” the coroner replies calmly, “but the classification of these eyes is not human remains anymore. Because of the way Danzo used them, they’ve been classified as potential weapons. We’ve gone through the same process once or twice before, when a rogue Shinobi was brought in with stolen Byakugan eyes.”_

_“But it's my family.” Sasuke points to his own eyes, can feel the coroner glancing at the Uchiha fan embroidered onto his shirt. “I already have a Sharingan—what use would I have for theirs?”_

_The woman sighs, putting a hand up placatingly. “We both know that, but policy is policy. The Council will argue that you could sell them for profit, or they could be stolen, or a thousand other possibilities. I want to help you, but you just can’t leave with the eyes unless they’ve been destroyed beyond use.”_

_Sasuke sees visions of a beautiful bonfire in some far away forest, of letting his family’s ashes drift away with the wind and scatter across Fire Country. He did twice as a young child, for an elderly great-grandparent, and a second time for Shisui._

_Shisui, who he was informed last week was murdered by Danzo shortly before the Uchiha massacre. Shisui, whose eyes were the first to decorate Danzo’s collection._

_They didn’t have a body for Shisui, so they burned his sword. The katon required to melt the medal was hot enough to singe the eyebrows of those nearby._

_Sasuke despairs, because once again, he will have to do the ceremony incorrectly. The last of his clan will be burned up in a lab two-hundred feet below downtown, where even the sunlight and stars can’t reach them._

_He feels like crying, here and now._

_There’s a hand on his back, rubbing in slow, gentle circles. Obito’s voice whispers softly into his ear._

_“We can still burn them there, too,” he says. “We’ll get a wooden box to hold the ashes, and we’ll hike up to the highest point we can find, and we’ll do the katon, together.”_

_It’s the best offer Sasuke will receive, to get to perform the ceremony on a technicality. He has no other choice, except to leave them here._

_“Would one of you like to do the honors?” asks the coroner, already taking out a metal jar. “There’s a furnace down the hall, but it might be more personal this way.”_

_Sasuke knows she’s right._

_With a deep breath in and a deep breath out, he volunteers._

_“I will.”_

\----

They find the perfect spot late in the evening, well over twelve hours past when they first left Konoha.

It’s not that Sasuke or Obito are slow walkers, or bad at hiking, or anything like that. 

It’s more that Sasuke is a perfectionist, and he will not rest until they’ve combed through every bit of the forest to find an ideal campsite. He wants flat land and beautiful views. Sasuke also wants it in a two-mile radius of the place where he chooses to burn the Uchiha remains and scatter their ashes to the wind.

He wants a place he can return to in the future.

Obito knows this, which is why he doesn’t complain, even as the sun starts to set against their backs. The Uchihas may have denounced him many years ago, but that doesn’t exempt him from long overdue mourning.

After a day spent in near silence, heavy packs slung over shoulders and feet rubbed raw from a brutal pace, they find it.

The campground is nestled in a small meadow, tucked in between a fast-flowing creek and the sheer rock face of the mountains. It’s quiet and serene, the view of the land sloping up to reach the sky above them spectacular, rather than intimidating.

Obito and Sasuke make quick work of their campsite, laying out tents and a tidy campfire with ease. Sasuke drags a couple logs from the nearby woods out, assembling them around the fire like makeshift benches, and they stop to rest for fifteen minutes.

Sasuke moans as he takes a bite of his power bar. Protein-powder flavored mush has never tasted so good, and it’s only now that Sasuke realizes how hard he’s been pushing himself today. This is the first thing he’s eaten since breakfast. 

He cranes his neck back, stretching out sore muscles. Above him, tall pine trees cut dark silhouettes into a purple sky. The stars aren’t out yet, but Sasuke can imagine them already, powerful in numbers, extending beyond infinity to the unknown. He supposes that a clan is a bit like a galaxy, or maybe a solar system, or some other astronomical measurement.

The thought comforts him, just a little bit.

Their respite, however, is very short, and sooner than Sasuke or Obito are happy with, they’re getting back up.

Against the protests of his sunburnt body and blistering feet, Sasuke begins the painful ascent up the vertical rock face of the mountains. Obito follows behind, a constant presence against Sasuke’s quiet thoughts. They do not use ropes, the chakra gathered in their fingertips and wooden sandals a thousand times stronger than any fabric known to man.

Sasuke extends an arm upwards, pulling himself upwards at a nearly 160-degree angle, and grins against the pain. Either there is a catharsis in hurt, or Sasuke has been trained to accept pain from such an early age that his brain has twisted it around. He thinks of Sakura, laughing and spitting blood against a steel pole in her chest, and Naruto, delighting in the burns of Kurama’s chakra. Every good Shinobi craves hurt, in one way or another. For civilians, Sasuke is not so sure. 

He imagines what it must feel like, to love without the prick of a senbon at one’s neck. A future that doesn’t end with the metallic stench of blood or the gentle snowfall of ash is beyond his grasp.

Sasuke claws his way up the mountainside, inching closer and closer towards the horizon above.

Finally, his fingers hit loose gravel, and pulling his hand back down, Sasuke finds himself grasping a clump of fresh grass.

Without further ado, he hoists himself off the rock face and onto steady ground. A few seconds later, Obito follows suit. They wait for a moment, catching their breaths.

“We,” Obito huffs, strained like their old neighbor after he climbs a flight of stairs, “are not climbing back down.”

“Deal.” Sasuke would rather feel queasy from Kamui than attempt the trip back on foot, exhausted and pitch black. Even the prospect of setting up ropes and propelling down is too much work for him right now.

He extends a hand to Obito, and they shake on it. Then, still gripping each other, Sasuke and Obito rise on shaky legs. Obito’s eyes are focused on their surroundings, which are a bit harder to make out now that the sun has set.

The moon has revealed enough, though, for Sasuke to recognize that this is the place. Despite the rocky terrain, trees and shrubs and grass grow here, marking a mountainous valley that grows lush from the frequent rainfall. Sasuke knows that if they were to peak the mountain, the other side would be dry and cold with no greenery in sight. A place as desolate as that is not fit for the Uchiha.

On the other side, back where Sasuke and Obito made their climb, is the most breathtaking view Sasuke has ever seen. There are no trees to obscure the clear sightline of the foothills and forests down below, and the endless land that stretches on in the distance. Off where the hills meet the sky Sasuke can make out the bright twinkling lights of Konoha. From up here, it looks small and cozy, a flickering candle against endless darkness, human civilization versus the forces of nature. He can even make out a large rock face shining brightly under the moon, the placement identifying it as the cliffs that surround Konoha on two sides, where the Hokage’s faces are carved in massive tribute.

The world is so very large, and Konoha is so very small, in the grand scheme of things. 

At his side, he feels Obito’s sturdy hand grip his shoulder.

“Ready?” Obito whispers.

Sasuke nods. 

Slowly, _gingerly_ , he reaches into his pack and retrieves the wooden box. There’s an old childhood rhyme they used to chant on the schoolyard, something about “ashes to ashes and dust to dust.” How fitting, for his family’s final burial.

He sets the box down on a tall stone, pressed flush against the cliffside. Lucky for them, the wind is blowing away from the mountain tonight, south through Fire Country and eventually, out to sea.

He steps back a couple feet, side-to-side with Obito.

“Would you like to say any final words?” Obito asks.

“No,” Sasuke replies. No words can bring them back, or restore Sasuke’s childhood innocence, or undo Danzo’s transgressions. “You?”

Obito smiles, one side of his mouth pulling up in a way that looks more like a grimace than a grin. “I think I lost the right to say anything many years ago. I’m here for you, and you alone.”

And Sasuke supposes that’s the crux of the issue. For as much as he may miss his mother’s hugs, or the feeling of belonging he felt when he would come home from school with an A on his Kunai-throwing assessments, the Uchiha weren’t really his family. Sasuke was too young to know loyalty or duty, and on his guiltiest nights, he thinks he might have run away with Itachi if his brother asked him to. 

Obito is family, more so than even Itachi may have been, once upon a time. And Obito was thrown out and rejected by the Uchiha, a banishment so severe that Sasuke didn’t know of Obito’s existence until he conveniently showed up on a next-of-kin record.

In many ways, this ceremony is not about love. It’s about responsibility, about a legacy stained in blood. It’s the same thing Sasuke is counting on to help him find Madara and end him, once and for all.

Sasuke isn’t nearly angry or sad or somber enough for this right now. Still, this has to happen tonight.

Without much warning, he flips through a couple hand signs, Obito following suit a beat later.

By the time Sasuke raises a hand to his lips, Obito has caught up, totally in sync with Sasuke’s practiced motions. They breathe in together, one family and one clan under the same stars, and when Sasuke and Obito exhale, the world ignites.

The Katon is blisteringly hot, the flames flickering blue and white in the corners of Sasuke’s vision. He breathes out until his chest cramps and he can’t sustain the flame anymore, but the time in between feels like an eternity.

Obito’s flame peters out a scant few seconds after Sasuke’s, leaving them both gasping for breath against the cold night air.

When Sasuke finally straightens himself out, he can see a thin trail of smoke drifting off into the wind, past the cliff and out towards the forest below. There’s no sign of the wooden box or its contents, already lost to the cool night breeze. 

Sasuke’s eyes sting, but he’s too exhausted to try to differentiate between smoke in his eyes and actual tears. 

“Let’s go,” he says instead, turning to Obito. “I can’t wait to crawl into my sleeping bag.”

Obito chuckles. “Five bucks says I can teleport us right into the tent.”

Sasuke groans, not so keen on the sickness that comes with Kamui. Still, it beats climbing back down.

“Deal.”

And if Obito doesn’t quite manage to land them in the tent, but rather, on it, causing the entire thing to collapse beneath them, the laughs from the mistake far outweigh the trouble required to fix it.

\----

“So? What do you want to do today?” Obito asks, opening his mouth and showing off some half-chewed granola. 

“Close your mouth,” Sasuke orders, squinting his eyes shut at the disgusting sight.

Obito opens his mouth wider, making a point to chew as loudly as possible. When he’s finally finished the power bar, he speaks again. “Like I was saying, what should we do today?”

Sasuke shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re the one who suggested we go on this trip in the first place. Shouldn’t you have a plan?”

Obito pauses to rummage through the backpack next to him, turning to Sasuke with a triumphant grin as he brandishes a mess of wood and wire in his left hand.

With a flick of his wrist, the objects in his hands snap out, expanding and flattening out before Sasuke’s very eyes until there are two long poles before him.

“Fishing it is!” Obito exclaims.

Sasuke sighs and accepts one of the fishing poles Obito keeps on waving at him. 

\----

It doesn’t take them too long to find a nearby lake, the shining and calm blue water much more beautiful up close than it was from the mountain the night before.

They don’t have a boat to get pout to the middle of the lake, and the area is too rural to have a built-in dock, so Obito rolls his pants up to the knees and wades right in. Sasuke follows behind, a bit more reluctant.

“No sudden movements,” Obito warns, “or else you’ll scare the fish away.”

Sasuke could care less about catching some scaly bottom-feeders to eat for dinner tonight, but it seems important to Obito, so he gathers up every meditation tip he’s learned over the course of his life and tries to project that serenity outwards.

It gets difficult when Sasuke feels an itching in his nose, hairs prickling up on his arms as he feels the urge to sneeze.

There’s a dark shape by his foot, poking around curiously underneath the water, and he can see another further off where his fishing line is submerged.

_Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move,_ he repeats to himself, even as he feels the sneeze coming on.

He feels the barest tug at the end of his fishing pole. 

“ACHOO!”

His whole body shakes with the magnitude of the sneeze, and when Sasuke opens his eyes, he can already see the fish darting away to deeper waters.

“Damn.”

Obito smiles at him from a couple feet away. “You’ll get it next time,” he assures Sasuke.

Sasuke frowns, looking up at the trees surrounding the lake, which are bending ever so gently in the breeze. He can feel his nose getting itchy again.

“I’m not so sure about that,” he says, stopping to sniffle. “I think I’m allergic to the pollen out here.”

As if to punctuate his statement, he sneezes again, this time much softer.

“That’s okay,” Obito hums happily. “Just leaving the catching to me.”

Sasuke’s eyes flicker over to where Obito’s line extends out, sunlight illuminating the water just enough for him to see the paper-thin wire and bait. He can’t see any dark shapes near Obito’s line.

“How long does fishing usually take?” Sasuke asks, feeling a bit impatient.

“As long as needed,” Obito replies.

Sasuke groans. “You know, if you wanted to do a stereotypical father-son bonding moment, we could have just stayed home and played catch.”

Obito quirks an eyebrow, fixing Sasuke with an unimpressed look. “I doubt I could've gotten you to play catch with me in public back in Konoha.”

“Holy shit. You packed a ball, didn’t you? Are we playing catch later today?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny the contents of my backpack,” Obito replies archly.

Sasuke kicks the water suddenly, scaring away a fish that was getting too close to Obito’s fishing pole.

“No sudden movements!” Obito screeches.

Sasuke rests an arm onto his hip. “What are you gonna do to stop me?”

To punctuate his point, he swings his leg around again, stirring up water and sand.

Obito’s eye narrows. 

Sasuke’s eyes narrow too.

“You little shit!” Obito screams. Without any warning, he throws his fishing pole down, lunging for Sasuke.

They both go down into the water hard, a hurricane of laughter and screaming unfit for two grown-ass men.

\----

Needless to say, they don’t end up catching any fish.

They do, however, have a wonderful time swimming in the lake. After a couple truly intense rounds of Marco Polo, Sasuke hauls himself out of the water and onto the half dirt, half sand beach. 

He shuts his eyes, grinning at the feeling of warm sunlight heating up his still-wet skin.

He can hear some shuffling and turns his head to the left to see Obito laying down next to him.

Off in the distance, he can see their sopping wet clothes hanging off of some tree branches. He doubts they’ll be dry by tonight, but it’s worth trying anyways. 

“How are you?” Obito asks, out of the blue.

Sasuke blinks, a bit surprised at the question.

“I’m...fine.”

Obito turns over onto his side, a bit closer to Sasuke now that he’s facing him head on. There’s something intense in his expression, something that makes Sasuke snap to attention.

“No bullshit, Sasuke,” he says, his tone soft against blunt words. “We’re out here in the middle of nowhere for a reason. You can be honest.”

“Honest about what?”

“All the shit that’s happened in the past few months. If you need to scream, scream until you’re hoarse. If you need to set something on fire, or punch a tree until your knuckles are bloody, this is the place to do it. And if you need to talk, I’m right here.”

Sasuke can feel his palms getting sweaty, but he’s not sure why.

“I’m fine, Obito. Really.”

Obito scowls, clearly not impressed with Sasuke’s poor attempts at denial. 

“You saw Itachi for the first time in a decade! Last night, we finally put your parents to rest! Don’t you feel anything about that?”

Sasuke feels his face flushing red, either from anger or too much sun or maybe something else. “I’m fine, Obito! Itachi and the others haven’t been my family, not in a long time. It’s not worth agonizing over.”

Obito’s jaw drops.

“And besides,” Sasuke continues, too heated to stop now, “there’s no point on dwelling on it until I’ve stopped Madara.”

The moment he says Madara’s name, the forest goes silent. Obito’s face pinches shut, shadows gathering over his scars until he looks almost inhuman. 

Sasuke feels a pang of regret. This isn’t the right person for him to be talking to. Not when Obito has been hurt more than anyone by Madara, and certainly not when he’s too afraid to admit that Madara may be alive.

A quiet pause stretches between the two of them, until Sasuke finally has enough.

“It was nice to be on a team with Sai again,” he mumbles, scrambling to change the subject.

And just like that, Obito takes the bait. All tension eases out of his body, the taut lines of his face easing up in a split second. “Of all the people I could imagine you happy to be spending time with…”

“He’s an acquired taste.” Sasuke will barely admit that Sakura is his best friend sober. He’s not going to get all mushy now, even if it’s just Obito bearing witness.

“And what about the other two boys? I can’t help but notice how they’ve been clinging to your side these past two weeks.”

“Shikamaru’s cool,” Sasuke agrees. “He’s smart and no-nonsense, unlike some of his teammates.”

Sasuke thinks of pretty long lashes and a platinum blonde ponytail and remembers exactly why he limits the amount of time he spends around Ino.

“And Hyuuga Neji?”

“A huge fucking prick,” Sasuke spits back on instinct. “...but a good friend.”

“Just a friend? Those moon-eyes he was making at you the other day seem to say differently.” Obito teases. 

Sasuke’s eyes widen like saucers in disgust and growing horror. 

“NO!” If his shriek is a little too shrill for a grown man, well, only Obito is here to hear it.

“My bad,” Obito apologizes, his smile getting bigger and bigger. “I forgot that you’ve sworn your undying love for Uzumaki Naruto.”

“Obito!” Sasuke reprimands, already feeling a blush spreading up his neck and across his cheeks. “Naruto and I are just friends. Neji and I are just friends.”

Obito nods, too large for it to be sincere. “Of course.”

A beat of silence.

“I’m just saying...you’re an adult now. You can talk about relationships like a grown-up.”

“The only relationships I’m interested in are friendship!” Sasuke fires back, hating the way his voice cracks halfway through the statement.

Obito just laughs and shakes his head, pulling himself off the sand and making his way to their drying clothes.

“Of all the people in Konoha…” Sasuke can hear him mutter. “A fucking Hyuuga and the Minato’s son.”

Sasuke rolls over, pressing his face into the sand like he would a pillow back home. The results are significantly less comfy.

\----

That night, warmed by a fire and exhausted from a day of outdoor activities, Sasuke presses his head against Obito’s shoulder the way he used to do when he was still small.

Obito doesn’t say anything, bringing his hand up around Sasuke’s shoulder to pull him in tighter. His grip is strong and steady. It would be suffocating if it were anyone other than Obito. 

Sasuke closes his eyes and smiles.

“Do you have any more surprises in that bag if yours?” he asks.

“Only if you’re interested in going night fishing.”

Sasuke shudders at the thought of wading into that water, now that it’s dark outside.  
“No thanks.”

Obito pulls away from Sasuke, letting Sasuke tip over onto the ground before he can catch himself.

“And I may or may not have supplies for s'mores.”

Sasuke’s eyes jump back and forth between the campfire and Obito’s weathered pack. 

“If you don’t dig them out right now,” Sasuke warns, “I’m going to dump your sleeping bag into the river.”

Obito sighs, getting up with a grunt the way old men with bad backs and knees do. Sasuke doesn’t buying the act, giving him a kick in the back to push him towards the backpack. A s’more is no joking matter, and Sasuke’s killed for less before. 

\----

The heat beats down on Sasuke’s back, and he adjusts the bandana tied around his forehead, grimacing when sweat pours out of it upon contact.

It’s not summer yet, but these temperatures are a hint of what’s to come in the next few weeks, and Sasuke’s already regretting it. 

It reminds him of long missions spent in Wind Country, if Suna was humid and muggy like a rainforest. Not to mention all the damn mosquitoes.

Sasuke curses his forefathers for not building Konoha closer to the beach. The people of Uzushio had the right idea, hurricanes and tsunamis be damned.

“How are you holding up?” Obito asks, turning around to look at Sasuke from his place further down the trail.

Sasuke stomps over a wide root, taking extra care not to trip. “Hot, tired, and all together questioning why we decided to hike today.”

“We? I was perfectly happy to try my hand at fishing again today, if you recall.”

“I didn’t know what the temperature was going to be!” Sasuke whines, kicking up dust as he drags himself uphill.

He exhales, mentally screaming at the universe, for giving him this unfortunate preview of summer weather. It reminds him of a more pressing problem.

“Oh my god, Obito,” he calls out suddenly, fear turning his voice shrill.

Obito whips around, hands coming up like he’s going to fight someone, his expression full of protective concern. 

“We need to buy an air conditioner the second we get back. Our old window unit got destroyed in Pein’s attack, and I don’t think I can survive a July heat wave on willpower and hydration alone.”

Obito’s shoulders sag with relief, and he shakes his head in amusement at Sasuke’s complaint.

“Sure, Sasuke, whatever you want.”

They hike for twenty more minutes, the sun getting hotter and higher in the sky and Sasuke growing more and more unhappy, until finally, they reach a clearing where the land levels out and the rock faces and alpine trees give way to shade and a small gurgling creek.

Sasuke’s dunking his feet in the water before he can think about the possibility of chafing and blistering, and though Obito takes his time clambering over and sitting down, he does the same.

The water is too cold for comfort, fresh from mountaintop snowmelt and erring on the good side of painful.

Sasuke dips his hands in and out, flicking water droplets at Obito the same way he used to as a kid when they went to the Konoha public pool.

Obito doesn’t fight it, making himself an easier target when he stretches out on the river bank.

“Any plans for the summer?” Obito ask, a lazy question to match his lazy posture.

Sasuke looks up at him, a bit confused at the question. Summers haven’t been anything special, not since Sasuke was still at the academy and got off for two months on extended break. He’s certainly never made his own plans for summer without asking Obito first.

“Working, I guess.” Across the creek, a shadow moves through the trees, and Sasuke’s heart speeds up before he remembers where he is. Small game and birds run rampant in these forests, and it’s not the first time today that some stray movement has distracted Sasuke.

Obito hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t say more. Sasuke gets the feeling Obito has something on his mind.

“What about you?”

“Working, probably.” Obito doesn’t quite meet his eyes when he says it, instead gazing up at the blue expanse of sky above them.

“Anything else?” 

“Well,” Obito sighs, “Kakashi was actually talking about going on an extended vacation for a couple of weeks.”

“Oh.” 

It’s weird that this is the first time Sasuke’s hearing about this, weirder still to imagine Kakashi initiating the idea of leaving Konoha for a while when he’s never even taken off of work for more than two weeks before.

He realizes with a start that he doesn’t know about the potential trip because he’s not invited.

It hurts a little, to know that Obito and Kakashi are making plans without him. But Sasuke is also an adult now, and he knows he’s probably invaded their privacy for one too many years already. Obito hasn’t brought up the idea of moving out of the small apartment, but Sasuke knows he’s thinking about it.

“That would be nice,” he offers. “For just you two, obviously.”

Obito sits up, an apology spelled clearly on his face. “We’re not attached to the idea, you know. We don’t even have a destination or timeframe in mind. And if there’s any chance you need me here, I won’t go. You’re a thousand times more important that some stupid beach days, and Kakashi feels the same way.”

Sasuke holds up a hand, cutting off Obito before he can say anything more.

“I understand.” 

Obito looks at him, confused and speechless.

“You do?”

Sasuke grins. “Of course. A man has needs, same as everybody else. If anything, you and Kakashi are long overdue for a sexcation.”

Obito scowls, sitting up and slapping a hand over Sasuke’s mouth before he can say another word.

_Serves him right for bringing up Neji and Naruto yesterday,_ Sasuke thinks with vicious glee.

“I’m going to take my hand off your mouth now,” Obito warns. Apparently, it hasn’t even crossed his mind that Sasuke could resort to licking his palm to get him to stop. “If you say another word about me and Kakashi and... compromising positions, I’m Kamui-ing myself back down the mountain and leaving your pathetic ass up here.”

He removes his hand, and for fear or worse consequences, Sasuke doesn’t say another word in that vein of thought.

Obito is still looking at him with expectant eyes, though.

“You should go on that vacation.” Sasuke looks directly at Obito, his smile less crooked now that he’s being sincere. “Of all the Jounin in Konoha, you and Kakashi deserve a break the most. I’m mature enough to handle myself on my own for a little while.”

Obito throws an arm over Sasuke’s shoulder, pressing his head against Sasuke’s. 

“Thanks.”

\----

They’re getting back up not too long after that when something catches Sasuke’s eye.

The undergrowth across the stream is rustling again, the exact same spot it did earlier.

Sasuke stares at it, deathly still and heart beating in his chest. For all he knows, there could be a rabbit hole or birds’ nest in that spot. But something doesn’t sit right with the assumption. Sasuke’s been trained his whole life to trust his instincts, and instincts tell him something far more sinister than a small woodland creature lies across the clearing.

There’s the faintest movement behind Sasuke, and he knows Obito has noticed the rustling now too.

Silently, Sasuke unstraps the Kunai tied to his thigh, and tenses for attack.

Clouds shift in the sky above, blocking the sunlight and making their surroundings grow dimmer.

The treeline casts long shadows, dense and writhing with unnatural energy.

“Show yourself!” Obito orders, breaking the silence.

It’s not how Sasuke would normally approach the situation, but he knows Obito needs direct line of sight to Kamui someone, and the best way to get that is to goad their enemy into attacking.

The shadows swirl and the trees shake, rising to the challenge.

Slowly, a humanoid figure steps out from behind the trees, and Sasuke’s blood runs cold.

He sees his feet first, typical Shinobi sandals followed by dark fatigues. The person’s shoulders are broad and his body tall, larger than even Asuma was at full height.

The man, and he is most certainly a man, wears deep red armor the color of fresh blood, the paneling slotted together in an antiquated way. It looks directly out of a history book, or one of the statues in Founder’s Park come to life.

There’s a Gunbai strapped to his back, the figure-eight shaped fan bigger than any practical weapon, three-times larger than any of the ones the Uchiha had back on display in their private armory. Still, it glows white, practically pulsing with ancient power, and Sasuke thinks it just might be the real deal.

And then, of course, there is the man’s face. It’s cracked apart like fine porcelain, and the dark welts dip down beneath his collarbone much like Obito’s old scars, but his facial features are distinguishable despite it.

He’s got a long nose and a stiff jaw line and dark brows that shade his eyes like a hawk. From his posture to his presence to his expression, he is stately and noble, like a clan statue come to life.

And maybe he is, because Sasuke registers his face as Uchiha. It’s not someone he knows personally, the man too large to be Itachi, too old to be Shisui, and too unfamiliar to be Fugaku. He is more poised than any of Sasuke’s uncles and elders, but Sasuke knows this man all the same.

He knows him from textbooks, and he knows him from Itachi’s memories, but most of all, he knows him from Obito’s horrified gasp behind him.

Vindicated though he may be at this boogeyman’s existence, Sasuke has never felt so terrible.

Uchiha Madara nods once, acknowledging Obito and Sasuke like clansmen rather than victims of his crimes or opponents on a battlefield.

Sasuke is rendered speechless. For all his hazy plans and far off determination, he doesn’t know what to do. He and Obito are capable fighters, sure, but Madara is a legendary warrior, capable of wiping out all the Uchiha in one night and bending Pein’s Akatsuki to his will.

“Don’t take one step closer,” he warns, gripping his kunai shakily and wishing for the sturdier weight of Kusanagi. His eyes flicker back to Obito, hoping Obito will have a plan, but Obito stands deathly still and pale like a ghost has appeared before him. 

Madara takes the momentary distraction to cross the stream, faster than Sasuke can look back, and then there he is, only two arms’ reaches way from them.

His chakra is familiar but strange, the fiery heat of Uchiha mixing with death and decay. 

His eyes, at least, are still brown, no Sharingan in sight.

Madara smiles, something slow and wretched, and shakes his head in admonishment.

“Judging from your ballsiness, you must be Itachi’s little brother.”

Sasuke grits his teeth and glares right back, pointing the kunai at Madara’s eye with no hope that it will dissuade Madara from slitting his throat. 

“So I’ve heard,” he spits. “And judging from your haughty attitude and ugly clothes, you must be Madara.”

Madara throws his head back and laughs, loud enough to scare crows out of the nearby trees.

When he recovers, he wipes a tear from his eye, fixing his eyes once again on Sasuke. 

“You’ve grown tough, little one. A finely tempered sword in the arsenal of Konoha.”

“I am no tool,” Sasuke argues, already feeling off balance from Madara’s taunts.

Madara raises his hands in an unassuming manner, shrugging at Sasuke. “Aren’t you, though? Sharpened by a quest for revenge, molded by your Uncle’s gentle hands, you have all the perfect qualities of a pawn in a game leagues beyond your skill and experience.”

Sasuke cocks an eyebrow, fixing Madara with a look of disbelief.

“Are you seriously trying this right now? Your words are worth jack-shit, Madara. I know that you’re the one who killed my family.”

“Indeed. You have to understand, Sasuke, how _disappointing_ all my descendants were. They were weak and cowardly and blind, cogs in Konoha’s machine just the same as you. And because they wouldn’t join me, I needed to dispose of them.”

It feels like a thousand senbon in the back, to hear Madara brush off the Uchiha Massacre like it didn’t matter. Like he didn’t ruin Sasuke’s life and commit familicide.

In Itachi’s memories, Madara had made him kneel.

Sasuke is still standing.

“And Itachi?”

Madara huffs. “Itachi showed promise, once upon a time. Maybe the deal for your life isn’t enough to bind him anymore, because he seems to have run off.”

Sasuke nods. It’s confirmation of what he already suspected, but some small part of him is still relieved, to know that his assumptions about Itachi aren’t completely off base.

“Why are you telling me all this?” He begs, trying to sell out any ounce of empathy in his ancestor’s eyes. 

Madara looks back, all put-upon pity and a pseudo-grandfatherly smile. 

“I figured I’d extend the same offer to you, Sasuke. I still have hope for my own blood.”

Sasuke’s stomach drops into his gut, the deja-vu of this choice from Itachi’s memories all too familiar.

“That’s it? Join you or die?”

Madara sighs. 

“That’s a blunt way of putting it, but yes.”

“Neither,” Sasuke blurts out.

Madara looks surprised. “What?”

“I’m not joining you, and I’m not dying. And I’m not letting you leave either. Also, your face looks like a wrinkled ballsack.”

Not his best comeback, but at least Tsunade isn’t here to witness it.

Madara looks furious for a split-second, and ice fills Sasuke’s veins, but the expressions melts away as the man schools his features back into something neutral.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Sasuke. It was worth a shot.”

Sasuke lowers the kunai half a centimeter, thrown off by Madara’s non-reaction.

“Truth be told,” Madara continues, “I’m not here for you.”

Sasuke opens his mouth to question the statement, and the whole world warps as a searing pain envelops his back.

Sasuke whips around, only to find Obito standing there, same position as before, except for his left arm, outstretched with a bloody kunai between his fingers.

He looks down at Sasuke, and at that moment, Sasuke is more scared than he’s ever been before—age six as Itachi sucked him into a Genjutsu, age eighteen when the Kyuubi breathed fire down his back, or when Pein crushed his skull, or even minutes ago, when Madara appeared, fresh out of Sasuke’s newest nightmares.

There is nothing on Obito’s face, no hate and no love and no humor. But the details are all too perfect for it to be a Genjutsu, and it terrifies Sasuke.

Robotically, but no less capable for it, Obito swings the kunai down again, and Sasuke barely dives out of the way, rolling to a stop a few feet away from his guardian.

Obito walks to Madara’s side, one eye boring into Sasuke without any feeling at all. Madara grins, red eyes spinning with a fully activated Sharingan.

“You see, Sasuke, you had something I owned—”

“OBITO!” 

He screams, uncaring if he scares more birds away, not giving a shit if he pisses off Madara. He just needs Obito to hear him.

Madara rolls his eyes and continues. “Obito is the only one of you who hasn’t betrayed me yet.”

“Please, Obito. Snap out of it.” There’s something wet on his face, and Sasuke doesn’t know if it’s blood or tears.

“A year is an awfully long time. Long enough to do a bit of mental rearranging.”

“Think about us, Obito! Kakashi and the Yondaime are waiting back home, right now.”

Madara runs a hand along Obito’s head, ruffling his hair like he’s a pet.

“Loyalty and love aren’t the same thing,” Madara says, clicking his teeth like he’s scolding Sasuke for doing something childish. 

He can’t seem to pick himself up off the ground, his legs and arms shaking too hard to attempt it.

Sasuke presses his forehead into the ground and screams in frustration. 

“I HATE YOU!”

“Now Sasuke, that’s not fair. It’s not like Obito knew about the conditioning. That would defeat the whole purpose of it.”

Obito takes another step closer, hands flashing through a pattern Sasuke has never seen before.

“If you’ve ever loved me...” Sasuke croaks. Obito’s feet crunching over twigs drowns out the rest of his statement. 

Sasuke heaves and sobs, ugly and loud as Obito casts a shadow over him. 

Death does not scare Sasuke. He’s died once before, and he knows too many others who have perished before him. Beyond life, there is nothing. 

What tears his heart in two is that Obito is the one who’s going to do it.

And Obito won’t even remember.

_A crow takes flight from the trees._

_The creek continues to flow._

_Sasuke breathes in._

_Obito activates the jutsu._

_And there is nothing._

Sasuke opens his eyes in surprise, because he’s still alive, and immediately sets his eyes on something too strange to believe.

Obito and another figure are trading blows, the chakra from Obito’s attack dissipated into the air from when it failed to reach its intended target. Madara, too, watches in disbelief.

Forcing Obito back is none other than Itachi, hair loose and clothes ragged but vicious and quick all the same.

He’s a quiet fighter, breathing in sharp as he moves where others might shout. Obito is quiet for entirely different reasons, the sounds of their battle punctuated only by the clash of metal and whirring in the air as blades fly left and right.

Itachi hits like he has something to lose, or something to protect, and pushes Obito back in Madara direction with a swift kick.

Obito falls back, and exchanges glances with Madara. Itachi, seizing the opportunity, turns his back and approaches Sasuke, hefting him off the ground before Sasuke can say a word.

His back screams in protest, the skin there sticky and stinging where Obito must have sliced deep with his kunai. Sasuke doesn’t care, because his eyes are transfixed on Obito.

“Sasuke,” Itachi warns, trying to hoist him to his feet, “we have to go right now!”

Across the way, Obito’s eye goes red, and he grabs hold of Madara.

The chakra in the air is thick and heavy, and through the stench of battle and sweat and blood, Sasuke can smell the ozone scent of a rift in space and time opening up.

Obito and Madara step towards the Kamui portal.

“NO!” he screams, lunging towards them.

He doesn’t get very far, not when Itachi throws an arm around his chest and tugs him back. Sasuke kicks and scratches anyways, fighting like hell to reach Obito before he disappears.

“NO!” He screams again, over something that Madara must be saying, eyes narrowed and a cruel smile on his face. 

Itachi swings him around, tossing Sasuke onto his shoulder like a sack of flour, rather than a human being.

Sasuke beats his fists down on Itachi’s back, snot and tears and blood mixing into an ugly whirlpool down his face, his cries no longer intelligible. Itachi doesn’t budge.

And Obito and Madara step into the rift.

Itachi sprints away too, Sasuke still facing backwards over his shoulder, a petulant child instead of a grown man. 

He’d assured Obito he was old enough to watch out for himself, old enough to be okay if Obito left.

But not like this. Never like this.

Sasuke screams until his voice grows hoarse and his breath catches, his beating firsts and kicking legs turning into heavy, body-wrenching sobs as Itachi carries him back to Konoha, to an empty apartment and an empty kitchen table.

Away from his home, away from his heart.

“Please,” he whispers, as the clearing and the trees and the rocks and the mountains grow ever-distant.

“I’m sorry,” Itachi whispers right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the sadness! Also a lot about cremation. Idk. I picked up my uncle's cat's ashes the other week and it was a weird experience so maybe I'm projecting.


	13. The Elder Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update to kick off the week :)

Someone rings the doorbell at seven thirty in the goddamn morning. 

Too early to be a solicitor, too informal to be a messenger sent by the Hokage.

Sasuke groans, rolling back over onto the coach and disturbing the mess of pillows and blankets he’s been cocooning himself with for the past couple of days.

The doorbell rings again, followed by a persistent knocking.

Sasuke sighs, finally dragging himself up off the couch and into the front hallway.

He doesn’t bother to check his reflection or adjust his clothes. It doesn’t matter much to him anyways—he hasn’t taken a shower in three days, and the bags under his eyes can only be fixed by a good night’s sleep.

The pounding gets louder, and Sasuke stomps over to the front door, tired of his mysterious visitor already.

‘I’m here!” he yells, swinging the door open so hard it rebounds back from the wall. “You can stop with the knocking—”

Sasuke cuts off, blinking slowly at the person waiting on his doorstep.

Itachi has the audacity to look surprised too, like he isn’t the one who showed up here ridiculously early on a Saturday morning.

“Go away.”

Sasuke slams the door closed as hard as he can, except there’s no slam, because Itachi has poked his foot in to jar the door open. He hisses in pain a beat after the dull thud, and Sasuke feels a distant sense of satisfaction at inconveniencing his older brother.

“Sasuke, I just want to talk.” He holds his hands up, like he’s the reasonable one here, like he’s some sort of harmless guardian figure and not one of the reasons Sasuke’s entire life is falling apart.

“Get out of my apartment, Itachi,” he growls.

Itachi puts his hands down and lets out a quiet sigh. 

“Five seconds,” Sasuke warns, grip so tight on the door that his knuckles are going white. He already feels a bit dizzy, but that’s probably just the lack of sleep and overwhelming hunger talking.

Itachi frowns, the expression pulling at his face and aging him. 

“No.”

Sasuke balks. 

“No?”

“Yeah. You’ve been avoiding me all week, so I’m not leaving until we have a nice, long conversation about whatever’s going on in that head of yours.” He extends a hand as he says “head,” poking Sasuke in the forehead. It’s teasing and embarrassing, the way Itachi used to taunt him when they were little.

Sasuke flinches back and slaps Itachi’s hand away before the man does something worse, like pull him into a hug or give him a noogie.

“You’re an oblivious asshole,” Sasuke curses, trying to push the door closed with no success.

“That’s no way to talk to family,” Itachi says, feigning hurt like he actually cares what Sasuke thinks.

Sasuke doesn’t have an angry tell, like an eyeball twitch or a forehead vein, but he swears there’s steam coming out of his ears when Itachi looks at him like he’s the villain.

“Are you fucking kidding me? As if I would talk to you about all this crap! You’re not Obito and you’ll never BE Obito, so stop fucking trying! If anyone is responsible for this whole mess, it’s you!”

Sasuke cuts himself off, startled by his own outburst. Itachi is smiling at him now, and Sasuke grits his teeth for playing right into Itachi’s hands. He let Itachi goad him into talking, and now the asshole knows that’s something’s up. He’s certainly not going to leave Sasuke alone after saying something like that.

Maybe there’s something in Sasuke’s eyes that says he’s not fucking around, or maybe Itachi isn’t so socially clueless, because Itachi takes a step back from the door, letting Sasuke slam it in his face.

He takes a calming breath, letting his forehead rest on the cool wood door. 

_Do not escalate,_ he repeats to himself. There’s no telling what kind of property damage he would cause if he resorts to violence.

Pressed up close like this, he can hear some shuffling about on the doorstep, and Sasuke knows without a doubt that Itachi’s still out there, hoping Sasuke will change his mind.

Whatever—Itachi can wait out there as long as he wants, because Sasuke isn’t coming out that easily.

Sasuke decides he should go freshen up and change out of his sweatpants, just in case anyone else decides to stop by today.

He crosses the apartment quickly enough, careful not to linger or look at the closed door to Obito and Kakashi’s bedroom. 

It’s far too quiet here, now that Sasuke’s the only one around. He wonders briefly if this is what it will feel like to finally move out and live on his own, but discards the thought before it can really take root. If anything, being here alone probably feels similar to living in the Uchiha Compound after the massacre. It’s the wrong kind of peace and quiet, every crevice and corner tainted with bittersweet memories.

Sure, Sasuke had friends coming and going earlier this week to ease the pain, but eventually, everyone had to get back to their real lives. All that’s left is him and an apartment too big for one person.

And, as much as it's not wanted, one wayward older brother camping out on the front porch.

Sasuke sighs in annoyance as he strips down and clambers into the shower. 

He curses Kakashi for leaving so abruptly after he and Itachi came stumbling back into Konoha. Kakashi could have kicked Itachi off the stoop in seconds, if he wasn’t off god-knows-where tracking Obito down.

Letting the cool water run through his hair, Sasuke closes his eyes and goes over the week in his head.

He doesn’t remember much about the trip back to Konoha, only that he and Itachi had made it back late into the night.

Tsunade told him afterwards that he had been in shock, and coupled with the blood loss, he wasn’t really in his right mind.

They had taken Itachi away for questioning, handcuffed and paraded off to T&I so a Yamanaka could pick through his brain for any sort of deceit.

He must have passed with flying colors, seeing as he’s out here on the streets, tormenting Sasuke into an early grave. 

Sasuke hates to think that his presence might have cleared Itachi of all charges, despite his certainty that Itachi was innocent only a couple of weeks ago. He can’t quite reconcile his childhood memories of his brother with all those years of nightmares and trauma. 

By this point, Sasuke and Itachi are more strangers than family.

Sasuke’s just not sure if he wants to make the effort to get to know him again. Whether it’s through bad luck or his own doing, things always get worse when Itachi is around. And though Sasuke’s not sure how things could get worse right now, he certainly doesn’t want to take any more chances.

Sasuke grabs a soap bar from the plastic shower caddy, running it up and down his arms in a soothing, circular motion.

The morning after, when Sasuke had woken up in a hospital bed, Kakashi was there at his side. Sasuke was so relieved to see a familiar face, he hadn’t even noticed the pack strapped to Kakashi’s side, or the way he thumbed a kunai like he was ready throw it at the next person who walked through that door.

And then he told Sasuke he was leaving, that he couldn’t stay while Obito was out there somewhere, stuck under Madara’s cruel orders. Sasuke had asked him to stay anyways, but one look at Kakashi’s face, and he knew it was futile.

So Sasuke let him go. As nervous as he was for Kakashi’s safety, he had figured at the time that if he couldn’t find Obito himself, at least someone he trusted was going to try.

Sasuke’s a fucking idiot. He’s been sitting around inside for days now, giving him nothing but time to think. Kakashi, even if he manages to find Madara and Obito, will be no match for them. 

He prays that Kakashi doesn’t find them, if only so that Sasuke doesn’t lose two people at once. And maybe that’s a selfish wish, but this isn’t the first time Sasuke’s lost his entire family—he can only hope it won’t happen again.

He notices that his fingers are a bit numb, his teeth chattering a bit against the water pressure, so Sasuke takes a moment to turn the shower head off. He stands sopping wet in the ceramic stall, not quite ready to get out and dry himself off yet.

Sakura would warn him about catching a cold, or hypothermia, or some other potential illness if she caught him like this.

She had stormed into the hospital room only minutes after Kakashi had left. When she found out what their Sensei had done, she cursed so loud the walls practically shook, yelling something about “against the Hokage’s orders” and “the idiot is going to get himself killed.” 

If the situation weren't so dire, Sasuke would almost think it funny how Kakashi, the perfect model Shinobi, had finally gone against the word of his beloved Yondaime.

Finally, he reaches for a towel. The bathroom mirror isn’t fogged up like usual, no hot water or steam to cloud it over. His reflection startles him a little, gaunt eyes and pale complexion like something otherworldly.

He still looks like an Uchiha. His father’s son, and Itachi’s brother, if he were to ask anybody on the street. Baring his teeth in the mirror, Sasuke tries to imagine what he’d be like if he had a lighter shade of hair, or if his eyebrows were more arching than flat, or if his nose was a bit wider at the base. 

Maybe people would think he was Obito’s in more than just legal papers. It’s a damn shame that the contents of his heart don’t manifest upon his body. Maybe there’s a universe where that’s true, where he’s raised by Obito from the very start.

It would certainly be a better life than this one.

Without further deliberation, he throws the towel down and turns away from the mirror.

Sasuke thinks he might just take a nap after this, if only to lay down his head and forget what’s happening for a little while.

\----

It’s hours later, the sun past its high point in the sky, when Sasuke remembers the presence of a certain someone on his front steps.

He gets up and tells himself it's only out of the barest sense of curiosity and boredom— _It’s not like he cares about Itachi_ —and goes to look through the peephole.

Sure enough, Itachi is sitting there, curled up and leaning against the door like some sort of disgruntled stray cat, and Sasuke realizes his wait-it-out plan might have some issues.

As patient as he might be, Itachi spent years undercover with Akatsuki. Sasuke thinks his dogged courtship of Naruto pales in comparison to that kind of persistence.

If Sasuke lets Itachi sit out here for any longer, people will start talking. His neighbors are unhappy about having Shinobi living in their building as it is.

Sasuke lingers at the door and tries to think of the best way to get Itachi out of here. He barely knows the man, isn’t sure of a proper bribe or persuasion tactic. This is the Shinobi who spent years under Madara’s watchful eye and immersed in Akatsuki’s ranks. He’s not going to break so easily over an empty threat or the promise of ice cream.

Though the thought of Itachi at Madara’s side does give Sasuke a couple of ideas.

He supposes that maybe, just maybe, Itachi has something of value to offer Sasuke.

Without further ado, he swings the door open, snickering as Itachi falls forward, stirred from his nap.

Itachi looks panicked for a split second, until his eyes find Sasuke and his features settle into something more neutral.

“I take it you’ve changed your mind about the talking thing?”

Sasuke scowls at him, irritated with the air of smugness that seems to radiate from Itachi’s form.

“No.”

Itachi nods, unfazed by Sasuke’s demeanor. 

“We’ll see about that. Now—are you going to let me inside? Because if not, I’d appreciate if you’d leave me alone so I can get back to my nap.”

Sasuke steps over Itachi’s sitting form, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Get up,” he orders. “We’re going to the Training Grounds, and you’re going to show me all of Madara’s weak spots.”

Itachi stares at him for a moment, something unreadable in his eyes. 

Sasuke turns his back and starts down the road, certain that Itachi will follow.

\----

They stretch together on the field, Sasuke’s eyes skirting nervously over to Itachi whenever he changes positions and Itachi follows. 

He has no true measure of the Shinobi before him, all his memories warped by hero worship and childish weakness. Something in him tenses at the spar looming before him where he might have delighted only months ago. But Sasuke has grown cautious over this past year, and for good reason.

Itachi catches him looking over and gives him a small smile.

“This is an impressive stretching regimen. Did a doctor teach you? It really feels like we’ve covered every muscle in the body.”

Sasuke turns his nose up, bending over into the next position, which gives him a convenient excuse not to make any more eye contact with Itachi.

“I came up with it myself,” he replies, a tinge of pride coming through even as he tries to keep his voice neutral. 

He spent years perfecting this routine, wasting hours away in the library as he scoured over physical therapy scrolls. He observed and took notes from Gai and other Taijutsu specialists in the village, had Tsunade spot him as he went through his earlier versions.

Hell, Sasuke had gone as far as to interview visiting Shinobi for beloved Kata forms from their own villages. With a bit of smooth talking from Naruto, the typically distrustful dignitaries were willing to share and demonstrate for Sasuke.

He tries not to flush at the compliment, unsure if Itachi means it or if he’s trying to get onto Sasuke’s good side.

Though a few other Jounin have complimented him for it too, in these past few years. Kakashi told him that a teacher at the Academy had started teaching it to the students there, too, and that they were calling it the “Sasuke Method.” The thought makes Sasuke happier than it should.

“I was thinking we could work on your Sharingan,” Itachi offers. 

Sasuke frowns. As far as he’s concerned, the Sharingan has brought nothing but strife and pain to his family. He doesn’t trust Itachi with Genjutsu practice, not with the way he saw how quickly Madara got into Obito’s head.

“And I was thinking you could show me Madara’s weaknesses.”

Itachi straightens up, his eyes darkening with untold threat.

“Why are you so reluctant to use your Sharingan?”

“Why are you going back on our deal?” Sasuke fires back.

Itachi holds his hands out, playing peacemaker like he’s not the one who started the argument in the first place.

“Look, if you’re insecure about your ability, it’s okay. We can start slow and—”

“You’re one to talk,” Sasuke snaps. “You only have the Mangekyou because you murdered Mother and Father.”

He looks up, eyes wide with shock over what he just said. Itachi looks surprised too.

“I didn’t mean that,” Sasuke mumbles, feeling the hot flush of shame down his neck as Itachi looks on.

He can feel how his brother’s eyes bore into him, volatile even when they’re not having chakra pumped through them.

“You don’t have your Mangekyou?” Itachi asks, like he didn’t even hear Sasuke’s earlier comment. Or maybe he’s ignoring it. Sasuke imagines it must get easy to ignore things, when one has to surround themself with monsters just to get by.

He feels a swell of pity in his chest and turns back to Itachi.

“No,” he answers, honest and raw. “I died, a couple of months back, but when I came back, my eyes were still undeveloped.”

He died, and there was nothing, and when he finally woke up, his body remained unchanged, Sharingan included.

Obito had made him try to summon it again and again in those first couple of weeks, with no luck. There was paranoia in Obito’s voice when he pushed Sasuke to activate the Sharingan. Sasuke dismissed it at the time as a holdover from Pein’s surprise attack but he wonders now, if maybe some small part of Obito’s subconscious that knew Madara was somewhere out there.

Itachi breathes in sharply, and Sasuke knows it isn’t from irritation. No, this is a much more intimate, well-acquainted feeling.

His brother is afraid.

“Itachi,” he starts, dread gathering in his words and stomach, “why won’t you teach me Madara’s weak points? Surely you know something, after having spent so long around him?”

Itachi’s head hangs low, dark bangs obscuring his deep-set eyes from sight.

“Remember when Pein attacked Konoha?”

Sasuke nods. 

_As if he could forget._

“None of you could beat him with that Rinnegan.”

“That’s not true,” Sasuke protests, “Naruto stepped in and talked him down.”

Itachi snorts. “Like I said, none of you could beat him. It took the Jinchuuriki appealing to his humanity to make him listen.”

Sasuke doesn’t think that battles can only be won with fists, not when he’s seen whole wars averted through other means, but now is not the time to argue that point.

“Madara is like Pein. He’s not human anymore—not in flesh and blood, and certainly not morality.”

Itachi looks up, his gaze seeking out Sasuke’s like a ship to a lighthouse. 

“I can’t tell you how to beat Madara, because I don’t think it's possible.”

\----

Itachi walks him home, despite Sasuke’s protests. 

He wonders how it looks to the average civilian to see them walking shoulder to shoulder again. He doesn’t know if they know about his current circumstances or Itachi’s return to Konoha as an innocent man. Whether or not there was a press announcement, he doesn’t care. Sasuke was cooped up in the apartment for too long to hear about any of it anyways.

It’s almost funny, how much Sasuke doesn’t care what strangers think anymore. He wishes he had this kind of nihilistic self-confidence months ago, when his problems were so much smaller in comparison. If only he didn’t have to pay such a high price.

There’s a twinge in his back to remind him of the cost—as good as Tsunade’s hands may be, some wounds take time to heal. The residual pain is proof that Obito attacked him with intent to kill, as if his emotionless eyes and even breathing weren’t proof enough.

Itachi looks over with concern, but Sasuke waves him off before the man can attempt to mother him. They’re less than a block away from home now, and Sasuke can see his building like a tree in a forest, the stucco white exterior bright in a way it never was before they rebuilt downtown Konoha.

As they get nearer, he can make out the profile of someone on his front porch. It takes Sasuke a second to register her, because it’s too early for Sakura to be off work, and she’s not even in scrubs.

He turns to Itachi, scrambling to find the words to get him to go away before Sakura notices.

Luckily, Itachi seems to get the situation pretty clearly, because he takes a step back, patting Sasuke on the shoulder as he does so.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says as he turns his back. Sasuke blinks, because no, he didn’t agree to that, but Itachi’s already too far away to call out to.

Sasuke sighs in annoyance but continues his steady trek to the apartment. He’d rather not keep Sakura waiting for too long.

When he finally reaches Sakura, she raises on eyebrow, eyes gazing over Sasuke’s shoulder in the direction Itachi went.

“Don’t ask,” he growls, just as Sakura opens her mouth to speak.

Her mouth shuts again, and Sakura shrugs like she was never curious about the reappearance of Sasuke’s possibly-murderous brother in the first place.

“What are you doing here?” Sasuke asks finally, his own confusion prevailing over the awkward pause that settles between them. “Not that I’m not glad to see you!” he corrects, worried that his earlier question came off too aggressive.

“Waiting for you, obviously,” Sakura replies, voice even in a cold, standoffish sort of way.

He blinks, and Sakura does not clarify.

Sasuke starts to panic—did he forget Sakura’s birthday? Did they make plans for tonight? He can’t remember, can’t recall what he might have said to her before or immediately after the camping trip, whether or not he’s managed to throw out another relationship while agonizing over Obito’s disappearance.

A slow grin spreads across Sakura’s face. “Surprise!”

Sasuke scowls. “That’s not funny!”

Sakura pulls him in for a hug. “It’s a little funny.”

Sasuke hugs her back fiercely. As annoying as the little prank was, he can’t say he’s shocked. Sakura’s always been good at testing his boundaries, knowing when to push and when to pull back. And judging from the way the tension is bleeding out of his neck and shoulders from where it had been gathered all day, Sasuke thinks maybe Sakura did the right thing.

When they pull apart, Sakura rings her hands together, a nervous twitch she still hasn’t quite managed to shed from her Genin days.

She sighs. “I feel like I haven’t been a very good friend these past few weeks.”

That’s certainly not what Sasuke expected to hear.

“You’ve been through the ringer, ever since Pein attacked, and I’ve barely been there for you.”

Sasuke frowns. “You were busy with school and missions, and all those shifts at the hospital—”

“Exactly!” Sakura interrupts. “None of that shit matters. What does it say about me that I was so focused on pursuing a career that I left you in the dust?”

Sasuke doesn’t like the way her voice goes shrill, like she’s on the verge of tears. The Sakura he knows is tougher than this. 

“And what about your graduation plans, Sakura? You’ve been dreaming about finishing your residency since we were fourteen years old!”

“What’s the point of graduating early if my best friend isn’t around to celebrate it?” She retorts.

He doesn’t what to say to that, merely brushing his bangs off his forehead where they’ve started falling into his eyes.

Across from him, Sakura melts a little, all her aggression disappearing like steam on a cold day. When their eyes finally meet, Sakura is smiling again, something soft and quiet and reassuring.

“I took off early—figured it was time for a day off.”

Sasuke gasps. He’s heard enough stories from Tsunade to know that that kind of shit almost never flies with a med student. 

“What did you tell your supervisor?” 

Sakura flashes him her teeth, a hint of mischief in her green eyes.

“The truth. I was long overdue for a sleepover, anyways.”

Sasuke would laugh, if he wasn’t so surprised. He wonders what the look on Sakura’s boss’ face was like when she told them those exact words. Not that Sakura would care—once she’s set her mind to something, there’s very little that will stop her from going through with it.

“Oh my god,” Sasuke says. “Did they fire you right then and there?” He hates to think that Sakura threw her future away for something so insignificant.

Sakura rolls her eyes. “Of course not. I’m the most promising student they have.”

She leans in conspiratorially and winks. “Besides, Tsunade offered to cover my shift herself.”

Tsunade, volunteering to do more work out of the kindness of her heart? That’s practically unheard of.

“Huh.”

Sasuke is genuinely stumped.

Sakura laughs, turning her head towards Sasuke’s door.

“So,” she starts, “my house or yours?”

Sasuke thinks of the apartment, dark and empty now without Obito around. He’s been cooped up in there for so long, he almost hates to go back after finally getting outside again.

And then there’s Sakura’s house, nestled out in the suburbs where barely any reconstruction occurred. It’s a cute one-story house with a white picket fence and flowers on the windowsill that her mother likes to water in the mornings. The fridge is decorated with pictures of a baby-faced and gap-toothed Sakura, the obvious beloved single child of two civilian parents. He imagines Sakura’s sagging bookshelf, heavy and overcrowded with textbooks and novels alike, and all the ways he can reorganize it while Sakura paints her toenails another shade of mint green.

He looks back to his door, and maybe there’s something in his face that gives him away, because Sakura speaks up before he does.

“My house it is,” she announces, already grabbing Sasuke and pulling him away from his lonely apartment.

Sasuke is perfectly happy to let her drag him along.

\----

“Sasuke, wake up.”

Sasuke squints his eyes shut and rolls over, pulling the blanket over his head.

There’s a tugging motion, and a sudden shift in cold air as the blanket is torn away from his body.

Sasuke picks his head up and squints in the bright light, frowning when he sees Sakura’s frantic face.

“It's too early,” he whines. It’s confusing, too, for Sakura to be waking him up like this. Getting up before noon after a sleepover is outright blasphemous.

She rolls her eyes. “No shit it’s early, but there’s someone waiting at the door for you.”

That doesn’t sound right. Sasuke racks his brain trying to think of who would be asking for him, but nothing comes to mind.

Besides, how could anyone have known that he spent the night at Sakura’s place, if they planned it so last minute? The person would have needed to see them talking, had to have known that Sasuke wasn’t going to be home—

_“Itachi,”_ Sasuke growls.

It’s the only person who makes sense. Itachi had said something about meeting up again today, and Sasuke didn’t have time to correct him. Of course the weirdo would show up at Sakura’s, like Sasuke’s own personal stalker.

“I’m sorry,” Sakura says, confirming Sasuke’s suspicions. “My parents opened the door and invited him in when he introduced himself as your big brother. If I had seen him first I would have sent him away.”

Sasuke sighs. Sometimes, Sakura’s parents are too nice for their own good. Still, he wouldn’t expect them to catch onto Itachi’s subtle manipulations. Judging by yesterday, even Sasuke himself isn’t good at standing up to Itachi.

Sakura’s still hovering over him, an apology clear in wide eyes.

Sasuke pushes himself up off her soft shag rug and the mountain of pillows he’d buried himself in last night. Wordlessly, he starts collecting the few things he brought over.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Sakura asks to Sasuke’s turned back. “I can lie and say you’re sick and need bed rest for a few days…”

“No.” Sasuke has never been one to shy away from confrontation, has never passed up a fight when challenged, and he’s certainly not going to start now. He might as well just get this over with and find out what Itachi wants from him today.

He can only hope Itachi doesn’t have any more bad news. Sasuke isn’t ready to give up on Obito yet, no matter how bleakly Itachi paints the situation.

He makes a motion towards the door, but a hand intercepts his. 

Sakura’s grip is tight on his wrist, something like pity in her eyes. 

“One word, Sasuke, and I’ll be there. You don’t need to do this alone.”

_Obito had made the same promises._

“I know.” 

He wrenches his hand away, maybe a bit harder than he needs to. 

And like that he’s gone, out of her room and past the living room, one nasty look enough to get Itachi on his feet and chasing after him as Itachi yells a thank-you at Sakura’s parents.

The quicker he can get Itachi away from the house, away from this civilian life, away from Sakura, the better.

\----

“We won’t train the Sharingan today,” Itachi announces like he’s just made up his mind, as if Sasuke hadn’t rebuffed him the day before. There’s condensation dripping from his voice whether intentional or not, and it makes Sasuke vibrate with frustration. But maybe that’s just the sleep deprivation talking.

He decides not to look up, moving silently into his next kata. 

Let Itachi wait. His brother has wasted enough time of his as it is, and Sasuke will do the same. He’s petty like that.

He can sense the tension building over the next few minutes, can feel something like energy crackling in the air as itachi’s resolve crumbles. 

Finally, he breaks the silence. “I was thinking we can play a little game.”

“A game?” Sasuke scoffs. “We’re both grown-ass men.” It’s cruel to say, cruel in ways Sasuke doesn’t like to be, but he’s still hurting and Itachi is an easy target. 

Itachi blinks once, face not so impassive as to hide his flinch. 

Sasuke has his suspicions, about what Itachi’s doing here and why he’s hounding Sasuke incessantly, but he won’t dare voice them aloud.

Itachi recovers quickly. “Well, I suppose there’s other terms for it—politicians like to call it quid-pro-quo.” 

“An exchange of information.”

Itachi nods. “We take turns asking questions. All truthful answers, though, otherwise what’s the point?”

Sasuke considers it.

“You can go first, of course.”

It’s a small offer in the grand scheme of things, but an advantage Sasuke appreciates nonetheless. 

He wants so badly to say no. Wants to spit in Itachi’s face and send him packing, because what right does Itachi have to demand things of Sasuke after all he’s done? What right does he have to know Sasuke, after everything he’s said has been one big lie?

A couple years ago, he could have thrown a temper tantrum with ease. Before he knew who the true culprit was behind the Uchiha Massacre, when he was still seeing Itachi's face in his sleep every night.

But he’s not the same person he was a few years ago. Hell, he’s not even the same person he was a few months ago.

He releases his kata and turns so that he’s facing Itachi head-on. He’s a little taller than Itachi now, but isn’t sure if it’s because Itachi has more of their mother’s genes, or if he’s just weighed down by all he’s lived through. Sasuke wouldn’t know.

He holds out a hand.

Itachi looks down in surprise, cautiously shaking it. 

“Deal.” 

Itachi opens his mouth to respond, but Sasuke cuts him off.

“But I reserve the right to stop talking whenever I chose.”

Itachi smiles a little, something crooked and out-of-practice. 

“Of course.”

\----

Sasuke throws a kick at Itachi’s head.

The asshole, ducks, of course, but pulls his weight around and swings back at Sasuke with a terrifying speed.

Sasuke backs up before Itachi can land a hit, taking a moment to catch his breath.

Itachi waits, and there’s something alien in his face, a look Sasuke doesn’t recognize among the faces of Shinobi and civilians alike in Konoha.

He doesn’t understand his brother. Not after this many years apart, but maybe he never did when they were little, either.

“Why did you leave Akatsuki?” Sasuke asks.

It’s not what he meant to say, but he seems to have blurted it out anyways. A shame really, because was hoping to save his question for something really important, something that would explain everything so that Sasuke didn’t have to answer whatever Itachi might ask him in turn.

Itachi huffs a little, his posture relaxing.

“I killed an important ally, which blew my cover.”

Sasuke processes the words slowly, like he’s pouring over an old poem, but his mind is drawing blanks. He didn’t even know Akatsuki had allies.

Itachi said “cover” like he had a mission from the Hokage himself, except Sasuke knows it can’t be true. Itachi was no soldier or spy. Sasuke remembers kneeling for Madara like he himself experienced it, and knows that Itachi couldn’t have had a higher goal for all those years. He was just a kid, trying to survive.

Sasuke’s stomach clenches at the thought, which is why he doesn’t see Itachi shift his weight before it’s too late.

Itachi comes swinging at him, his fist meeting Sasuke’s side hard enough to knock the wind out of Sasuke.

Sasuke crumples and Itachi follows after him, pinning him to the ground like they’re just two boys wrestling.

He has the audacity to laugh, even as Sasuke glares up at him.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Sasuke blinks a couple times, but each time he opens his eyes again, Itachi is still there, waiting earnestly for an answer.

He supposes there’s no harm in giving Itachi a response, if he can use his next turn to press Itachi for further information on the assassination gone wrong.

“Sunset,” he replies.

Itachi squints at him. 

“That’s not a color.”

Sasuke smiles, baring his teeth wide for Itachi to see. 

“Sure it is.”

Sunset is the color of a hard day’s work. It’s the pink in Sakura’s hair when the light hits the air just right, and it’s the deep orange color all of Naruto’s favorite pajamas are made of. And sometimes it’s purple or light blue, but when Sasuke likes it best is when the upper sky turns navy blue and he can see a whole gradient painted across the horizon.

He snaps his hands free from Itachi’s grip, flicking through jutsu fast enough to make Kakashi proud, and there’s a log in his place as Sasuke substitutes himself twenty feet away.

Itachi tosses the log aside, a wrinkle in his brow and annoyance broadcasted clearly across his face for falling for such a simple trick.

“Who did you kill?”

They charge each other.

“Orochimaru,” Itachi breathes out between beats. He catches Sasuke’s leg and flips him, but Sasuke rolls out of it easily enough.

_It makes sense,_ Sasuke thinks between the beats of his heart. There had been speculation, when Orochimaru’s head was delivered on their doorstep, that only a Shinobi from Akatsuki could have murdered the Sanin. No other rogue would be strong enough.

Except it seems like Orochimaru was on their side. Whatever the cause, Itachi was willing to risk his life to kill Orochimaru. 

He narrowly avoids a hit to the head.

“What do you do for fun?” Itachi asks, each word punctuated by a blocked hit.

Sasuke’s so busy trying to hold his own that the odd question choice doesn’t even phase him.

“Reading,” he replies instantly. “Cleaning and hiking, too.”

Itachi sweeps his legs out from under him, and Sasuke hits the grass on his side. He rolls to avoid Itachi’s downward kicks, only stopping to breath once he’s broken free of the barrage of blows.

“Why?” 

Vague, but it’s all he time for as Itachi charges him again.

Sasuke darts past his older brother, letting the man’s fist graze him on the side in order to get some more space.

When he turns back around, Itachi is breathing hard. Sasuke doesn’t bother to clarify his question.

“He was a threat that needed to be taken out,” Itachi answers.

Sasuke snorts. A threat to the stray Hyuuga or Uchiha who wandered too close to his snake den, maybe, but Orochimaru wasn’t going to be attacking Konoha anytime soon after he killed the Sandaime during the Chunin Exams. The damage to his body had been great and security was significantly improved.

An uncomfortable thought crosses his mind after a moment, because Sasuke remembers that the Yondaime had held him back from Jounin promotion, out of fear for his safety. Him and Hinata.

He can’t imagine Itachi killing to protect a clan heiress he doesn’t know.

Itachi had also known where they were, the night Madara attacked him and Obito. Either he was trailing Madara, or he was trailing Sasuke.

One seems much more doable than the other, no offense to his or Obito’s skills as Shinobi.

“Do you have friends?” Itachi asks.

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation. “You met Sakura today. And there’s Sai, my other teammate. Ino, Neji, and Shikamaru are pretty cool.”

Itachi nods, like he knows their names, or maybe he’s just giving blanket approval like some sort of parental figure.

“Naruto too,” Sasuke says after a beat. There’s the tiniest pang of regret that comes with that, but Sasuke pushes it down.

He flashes through a couple hand signals then, and the chakra threads blink into existence around his fingertips, glinting dangerously in the sun. 

Itachi pulls a single kunai from his pocket in an unspoken threat.

Sasuke thinks he moves first, because Itachi can’t have possibly responded in turn otherwise, but he leaps up to Itachi and draws the line taut.

Just as he swings it in a full loop, Itachi cuts through it, his arm and blade carrying through and out towards Sasuke’s outstretched hand.

Sasuke pulls his hand away, the thread coming loose with it.

He stumbles back then and snaps out of his shock. 

He needs to stop getting hung up on this small shit. “ _Can’t see the forest for the trees,_ ” Naruto liked to complain when meetings with the Elder Council went wrong.

“What is Madara planning?” 

Maybe it’s redundant to ask, because Sasuke is sure Itachi’s already informed the Hokage, but Sasuke doesn’t have an insider to that situation, not when both of the Yondaime’s students are off god-knows-where. He doesn’t even care that Itachi thinks beating Madara is an impossible task.

Itachi straightens up, a frown pulling his face tight. Sasuke knows it's not the shadows casting bags under Itachi’s eyes.

“Immortality, I suppose,” Itachi answers steadily. “But he’s crazed, and his plans are ruined anyways—they blew up the moment Pein sacrificed himself.”

“Will he still go after all the tailed beasts?”

Maybe Itachi’s too distracted to call Sasuke on asking two questions in a row, or maybe he doesn’t care, because he answers.

“Probably not. Going after the Kazekage or the Raikage’s brother would be a futile right now.”

Itachi pauses and shakes his head a little like he’s clearing an unpleasant thought from his head.

“It’s far more likely that he’ll attack Konoha, both out of revenge and in an attempt to secure the Kyuubi. The task will certainly be made easier, thanks to Obito’s insider knowledge.”

Sasuke gulps. Nothing in that sentence was reassuring. There’s movement from across the field though, so Sasuke doesn’t have time to dwell on the thought.

Itachi is breathing deeply, chakra in the air around him thickening in all the telltale signs of a fire jutsu.

Sasuke responds in turn, performing an earth jutsu that encases him in mud as a massive fireball roars past.

It tears into the trees beyond, a flickering fire they’ll have to put out after they're done sparring, but not now, because Itachi is still coming out him with heat on his lips.

His posture is different now, sharper and more threatening, filled with an urgency Sasuke can’t grasp.

Chakra snaps into place as a Sharingan activates. 

If he wasn’t so fucking scared, he’d think the Mangekyou was ugly. Without even thinking, the chidori roars to life in his palm.

He readies it with shaky hands, feeling every bit like the child he was on that night. His brain is screaming enemy, how could it not when a Sharingan is spinning in front of him and Itachi is looming ahead, every bit the descendant of Uchiha Madara and the source of Sasuke’s nightmares.

The Magekyou is a stain on Itachi’s face, marring his perfect record with the unspeakable act of familicide—Sasuke has read Uchiha records too, and knows that Madara was the first to achieve it, killing his brother for the ability. Itachi could do that to him, if he so pleased.

Somwhere, deep down, Sasuke knows it won’t happen.

Itachi is related to Obito just the same as Sasuke, too. Sasuke’s seen him smile more than once today, strained and sincere, and he can’t even imagine how painful it was to live under Madara’s watchful gaze for both his blood relatives.

Itachi’s foot wobbles, nearly imlperceptible at a running pace but Sasuke sees is anyways. It dawns on him that Itachi a scared child, just the same as Sasuke. 

He could put him to rest now, end his brother’s miserable half-life right now if he wanted. It would be easy, to run lightning though his chest and call it self-defense or a training accident.

The Chidori is still buzzing, but Sasuke is looking at it with sadness now.

He lets the electricity fizzle out in his hands. Mother always made him and Itachi hold hands when they went out alone, and Itachi was more than happy to oblige as the ever-protective older brother. They are hands stained in death too, but never for Itachi.

He breathes in and out slowly, and his eyes meet his brother’s.

The Sharingan blinks back out of existence, and the heat dispels, Itachi only an arm’s reach away from Sasuke.

Silent tears track down his face, catching the light ever-so slightly. 

He whispers, soft enough that Sasuke’s ears strain to hear him.

“Are you happy?” 

A loaded question, if there ever was one. Sasuke is a warrior, not a philosopher. He has no clue how to answer a question like that.

“I was,” he finally settles on. Not all the time, not nearly enough, but he was. Obito had given him that, above all else.

Where Sasuke had once doodled in notebooks and joked with Sakura about his aspirations, his future is now hazy. How could it not be, when one of the foundations on which it was built has been torn away?

Itachi nods again.

Which means it’s Sasuke’s turn.

“What do you want from me?”

Itachi gapes for a second like a fish out of water, struggling for answer.

They both know the obvious answer, have known it since Itachi showed up at his apartment yesterday demanding they talk. 

“I want to know you,” Itachi finally says, as if want is justification enough.

As if it’s an acceptable apology for all the hurt and deceit and trauma, like they can return to the past with a snap of Itachi’s fingers.

Sasuke’s so fucking angry, it burns.

But he gets it.

You see, it’s easy to fixate on a dream, when everything in your life goes to shit. Sasuke had done it with Naruto until it grew unhealthy, all his self-confidence bundled up in the hope that his too-perfect best friend could love him the way he couldn’t love himself. He turned a blind eye to Naruto’s problems though, and in the end, that blind devotion nearly tore them apart.

What would Itachi have felt like for all those years? He was a child soldier, declared criminal by his own village. He was the first son of the clan head, except he had helped kill his whole family.

There’s was only one promise he could maintain for all those years, and that was to protect Sasuke.

“What do you want from me?”

It’s only fair, that Itachi gets to turn the question around on him. Sasuke will give him honesty in exchange, because those are the rules they have set.

“I want you to give me space.”

He can’t handle this much of Itachi, not when his appearance coincides with Obito’s loss and Itachi just feels like a poor replacement.

Sasuke loves deeply and fully, but only when someone’s earned his trust.

Itachi hasn’t. Not yet, at least.

Still, his brother’s face twists into something miserable, heartbreak spelled across his features as clear as day.

“We’re still brothers,” Sasuke explains desperately, if only to wipe that awful expression off Itachi's face. “It’s just...we haven’t known each other in years. And reconnecting takes time. You can’t rush it with flimsy training sessions and nosy questions.”

Yes, Sasuke doesn’t know Itachi’s favorite color or his hobbies, or even if he has any after spending so many years on the road. But he also doesn’t know what Itachi’s sense of humor is like, or how he acts around children and the elderly, or if his pride is easily wounded. 

Sasuke doesn’t even know if he’s ready to commit to learning those things, not when he’s barely making it through the day, when even thinking about getting Obito out of Madara’s clutches sends him into a near-panic attack.

But Itachi’s here anyways. He is no replacement, and he is no guardian angel.

He’s just Sasuke’s big brother.

“I’m willing to try,” he promises.


	14. Three Conversations

Itachi is called away from training on a blisteringly hot Monday morning, much to Sasuke’s relief.

It’s a Jounin who pulls him away on official orders from the Hokage, all serious and put together the way errand Shinobi tend to be. She’s young, not old enough to be in Obito’s cohort but obviously more experienced than Sasuke himself.

There’s something too, about the way she holds herself, like she’s deliberately trying to make herself look unassuming. Sasuke realizes after a beat that the reason he might not recognize her is because she typically wears a mask.

Itachi offers an apologetic look for Sasuke but he follows the woman off the training field anyways, and it occurs to Sasuke that Itachi might just know the Jounin. He was only recently promoted to ANBU when Madara came to Konoha under the cover of night, but it was enough time—time for him to become part of a team, and definitely enough time to make some fast friends.

So Sasuke watches them go, half-pitying and half-envious. Itachi, it seems, has already snagged the Yondaime’s trust, or at least, his attention. The slime majority of his life spent as an enemy of the village but here he is, making war plans in secret with Konoha’s top tacticians.

The path he’s taken to get to this place is not worth it, in Sasuke’s opinion. Sasuke certainly wouldn’t give up his friends or family for any sort of career advancement, no matter how immense the opportunity. But he thinks that Itachi wouldn’t have either, if he wasn’t forced into it.

When the pair of Shinobi are finally out of sight, Sasuke turns back towards the clearing, stuck on what he should do next.

He hadn’t expected to be let out of training before they even hit a lunch break, and he knows Sakura is currently studying for final exams. He hasn’t even bothered to check in on Sai or Naruto, but he doubts they’d want to spar with him on a day like today anyways. It seems that without an Uchiha around, there is no good way for Sasuke to train his Sharingan like Itachi had asked him to.

Sasuke leaves the training ground, content with his reasoning. He’s well overdue for a nice stroll around town.

\----

An hour later, Sasuke is roaming down wide and quiet streets in the suburbs. It wasn’t quite an intentional decision on his part, but he didn’t want to go home and he didn’t want to wait around in the harsh sunlight, so here he is.

It’s not the same neighborhood as Sakura’s parents’ cozy home. Hell, it’s not even the same area of town as the Yamanaka mansion.

The visible houses are too old to match with the rest of downtown, and on either side of the streets are dense woods and imposing iron fences, which disguise clan estates.

Sasuke’s fairly certain he’s already passed the Inuzuka Clan Grounds, judging from the amount of dog barking he heard as he walked by. That was about a mile back though, and the sounds of howls have given away to peace and quiet. Sasuke suspects he’s passing by the very edge of the Nara’s privately-owned forest, but he can’t be quite certain with no signs or markers to go by.

As he makes his way down the road, Sasuke lets his feet guide him on autopilot, content to enjoy the soft spring breeze and fresh air he can’t get back at his apartment in the city.

Eventually, Sasuke comes to a dirt road cutoff, which he can see winding through the forest and up to a massive hill above. He knows it leads to the Uzumaki mansion from the numerous school field trips and personal visits he’s taken. 

He considers it briefly but throws the idea aside without too much deliberation. Naruto was never too fond of Sasuke coming to visit him while the rest of his family was around, and Sasuke hasn’t talked to him enough lately to know the situation now. He doesn’t even know if Naruto is home, and he isn’t quite comfortable enough around Kushina or Karin to swing by anyways.

Sasuke continues down the road with one last look at the looming hills behind him.

He passes a wide paved road, marked only by white marble columns on either side, and writes it off as the Hyuuga Estate. He’s never been inside before and they don’t exactly advertise their location to the public, but this road is familiar, and Sasuke doesn’t forget old neighbors so easily.

The road still stretches before him, seemingly longer with each step he takes. 

Sasuke holds his head up high and presses onwards.

On either side of the road, the forest seems to grow darker and darker and stiller and stiller, and Sasuke blinks a few times, just to make sure he’s not caught in some foreign genjutsu.

It’s quiet now too, but in a different way than it was further back along the road. Where the other Clan grounds were serene because of privacy, this last stretch is silent with something more somber and foreboding. 

Sasuke has never had a chance to see the ruins of Uzushio, has never been brave enough to ask Naruto about it either, but he can guess that the atmosphere feels similar.

He doesn’t stop walking.

Even step by even step, Sasuke marches on like the dutiful soldier he is. 

Homecoming isn’t a suitable word for the experience.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he reaches the end of the road.

Stretching up fifteen feet tall above him is an old wooden gate, older even than the Uzumaki mansion.

It’s a faded red now, paint chipped away and revealing the dark wood underneath, and Sasuke feels a pang of regret that he hasn’t been back at all to maintain it.

He’s heard rumors that the Uchiha Gate was established even before Konoha was founded, that Madara and his fellow clansmen drove the marker into the ground as a memorial to their fallen family members only hours after Kurama was sealed away.

The Uchiha Fan rests proudly at the top of the gate, a clear compound marker Sasuke remembers from his early childhood.

There’s something new here, though, and that’s the waist-high chain tied around either end of the post. A rusty sign hangs off it, warning trespassers away on official orders from the Yondaime himself. 

It’s by no means new but it’s fresh to his eyes. It hits Sasuke just then, how long he’s been away from the Uchiha grounds.

He’d always thought he’d come back here with Obito one day.

Now he’s not so sure that will ever happen. Sasuke thinks briefly of Itachi before tossing the idea aside. His brother is no replacement for the man who raised him. 

He doesn’t even know if Itachi is ready to come back, or even emotionally stable enough to handle this. 

He stares up for a while longer.

Then, without another word, Sasuke turns back around.

Sasuke wonders if some wounds ever heal, or if he’s just destined to keep on reopening old scars.

\----

His walk back down the road goes much quicker, no feelings of deep-seated dread weighing down Sasuke’s steps this time around.

Finally, the Hyuuga driveway comes into view. Sasuke hovers by the driveway, hoping to catch a sight of the presumably beautiful gardens beyond.

Back when Team 7 was just three Genin and a lazy Jounin-Sensei, Kakashi used to tell Sasuke he got reckless under duress. Sasuke vehemently denied the fact, but his record of injuries on missions was only surpassed by Kiba and Lee’s.

He doesn’t know if this counts as duress, but Sasuke thinks maybe Kakashi has a point. 

Nothing else explains his sudden decision to walk right down the gated road, an Uchiha passing onto Hyuuga lands without invitation.

If Neji’s not there, or if someone tries to intercept him, Sasuke can simply claim he got turned around in the woods here. 

He’d love to watch some stick-up-their-ass clansmen call bullshit on that.

The winding driveway gives way to a beautiful garden, all fresh cut grass and carefully trimmed hedges. Sasuke takes care to step only on the limestone pathway, though not out of respect for the Hyuuga Clan. It’s Obito’s voice that rings in the back of his head, lecturing him on manners and proper respect and all that other societal bullshit.

Eventually, Sasuke comes to the front door of the house. It’s more mansion than house, and Sasuke is sure that buildings and gardens and private training grounds stretch on behind it, but he can’t exactly see anything behind the towering white facade.

He raises a nervous hand to knock.

Just as his knuckle is about to meet hardwood, the door swings open and inwards, much to Sasuke’s surprise.

Hinata stands at the foyer, pale eyes wide and frantic at Sasuke’s presence.

“What are you doing here?” She whisper-yells, eyes darting back and forth from Sasuke to the grounds behind him.

“Hey, Hinata. Is Ne—”

Hinata grabs the front of his shirt before he can finish his sentence, manhandling him away from the door and across the front lawn.

She throws him through the tree line and into a bush, clambering in a moment afterward. He starts to get up, but Hinata pushes him back down, crouching next to him as she does so.

Sasuke shakes himself from her grip, glaring a bit.

“What the hell was that for?”

Hinata puts a finger to her lips, pausing before whispering again.

“I could sense your chakra signature three miles away! Why would you just stroll onto Hyuuga property uninvited?”

Sasuke frowns. “I was in the neighborhood...I just wanted to see if Neji was home.”

Hinata sighs, some of the tension leaking out of her shoulders.

“Well, next time you decide you want to have a spur-of-the-moment meetup, I’d suggest you go elsewhere.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Sasuke grumbles. “It’s not like I was trying to rob the place or something.”

“The Hyuuga Clan doesn’t take kindly to intruders, Sasuke. Especially not Uchihas.”

Sasuke hates this stupid rivalry. Sure, it was fun when he and Neji were Genin, but the whole thing has grown old and stagnant. It doesn’t make sense to maintain petty grudges, especially when one of the clans is all but extinct. In every history book from now on, the Hyuuga Clan will go down as the winner, if only because their own progenitors didn’t plot to kill them all.

The curse seal has ensured them against familicide, if nothing else. 

Sasuke sighs.

“Can you just get Neji for me?”

Hinata stares at him for a moment, squinting her eyes and tilting her head just so. She’s looking at him the way Karin used to, back when he and Naruto were still dancing around each other.

But there must be some small part of Hinata that likes Sasuke, or maybe she’s just a nicer person, because she acquiesces.

“Fine. Just be more careful in the future, okay?”

“I promise,” Sasuke smiles back, hoping he looks like a nice, respectable boy and not the scoundrel Karin always seemed to think he was.

Hinata darts back through the woods, her long black hair disguising her amongst the shaded trees.

Sasuke crouches in the bushes for a few minutes longer, but no matter how he seems to shift, there’s always a fern poking his leg, and more and more bugs are swarming around his head by the second.

Between that and the possibility of an uppity Hyuuga Chunin finding him, waiting by the street is starting to look like the better option.

Sasuke picks his way through the undergrowth until he finds the winding road. He follows it back to the main avenue that the rest of the clan estates are located on and waits.

Eventually, a familiar figure comes down the Hyuuga driveway.

Neji approaches him, not a stray hair out of place and white shirt pressed to stiff perfection.

“You have some balls, Uchiha.”

Sasuke laughs. It feels good to be treated like a human being again, rather than a piece of rare china.

“When have I ever cared about offending one of your family members before, Neji?”

Neji smiles. “I can’t say they don’t deserve it.”

He looks at Sasuke then, though Sasuke’s got his eyes fixed on some distant point. He can practically feel the curiosity and concern radiating off of Neji.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

\----

They’re somewhere around the Nara forest when Sasuke decides to speak again.

“Do you ever wish they weren’t your family?”

Neji’s breath hitches, and he pauses for a moment at Sasuke’s side before recovering.

“Sometimes, when I was younger.”

Sasuke can’t say he feels the same. He was proud of his family, of their integrity and legacy and power for most of his childhood. But somewhere along the way, all those positive associations left him. Some days, Sasuke thinks he’s more husk than man, a relic and symbol to put on a shelf as opposed to some mighty hero or warrior.

“And now?” Sasuke asks.

Neji scowls.

“It’s a stupid, futile thought to have. I wouldn’t be the person I am if I wasn’t born a Hyuuga, so why waste time on what-ifs?”

Sasuke's heard therapists say stuff along those lines before.

Neji must sense his disappointment, because he speaks up again.

“It’s not all bad, though. I’m actually pretty fond of some of my family members.”

Sasuke thinks of Hinata’s reaction to him coming to the estate, how protective she seemed the moment Sasuke asked for Neji.

He remembers, too, the way Neji had admitted Hinata was like a sister to him one quiet night on a mission weeks and weeks ago. Bonds formed in flame and blood are always stronger for it, he supposes. Growing up under the Hyuuga’s abuse could drive a weaker man to do worse things.

“That’s good,” he says weakly. If anyone deserves something positive in this lifetime, it’s Neji. 

They walk for a bit longer, steps naturally falling into sync as they continue down the road. If anyone is out today, Sasuke doesn’t feel or sense them.

Neji makes a few aborted attempts to speak up before finally clearing his throat.

“How are things?”

Now that’s a loaded question.

“With Obito or Itachi?”

“Both, I guess,” Neji replies frankly.

“No word from Kakashi yet,” Sasuke admits. It scares him, to know that Kakashi’s been missing for almost two weeks now and Obito longer than that. He can only imagine the kind of terrors either of them might be going through while he sits here in Konoha, helpless and weak.

“The Yondaime hasn’t told me anything either, so I can only assume Madara’s gone back into hiding.”

There’s a pressure on Sasuke’s shoulder, and when he looks up, Neji has leaned over to grip him, stopping dead in his tracks.

“We’ll find him.”

Sasuke tugs himself away, not as rough as he could have been.

“I know. It’s just a matter of time.”

That’s what he keeps telling himself.

Neji picks up his pace, catching back up with Sasuke again. He’s persistent like that.

“Itachi’s annoying,” Sasuke admits, hoping to diffuse some tension.

Neji chuckles a bit at that.

“Your older brother, the super-secret spy and fearsome ex-Jounin is annoying?”

Sasuke scowls, walking a bit faster. “I said what I said.”

“I heard you’ve been spending time together.”

Of course he did. As much as Konoha Shinobi love their secrets, they love gossip even more. This isn’t the first time Sasuke’s been the subject of their whisperings.

“He’s like a leech, really. Clinging desperately to my side until he’s drained me of my life force.”

Neji nods sagely. “Hinata acted that way after for a while when we were younger. Always pestering me and pushing me. It took me a couple years to realize I didn’t mind her company so much after all.”

Sasuke remembers. Neji and Hinata were closer after the Chunin exams where Neji beat her face in. The icy tension had thawed between them, or maybe Neji had gotten the frustration out of his system. Though Sasuke can’t say for sure—whatever conversations happened between them, Sasuke was not privy to.

“I’m not sure I have a couple years.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean this whole situation is totally fucked. How am I supposed to expect to make it out alive? How am I supposed to expect the same for Itachi?”

“Sasuke, we’re all living on a clock. The exact reason you’re afraid of getting to know Itachi is the same reason you should bother in the first place. Better to sort this out now than to let it fester.”

He glances away, uncertain.

Sasuke waits for him to continue.

“Being a Shinobi has never been safe, and with this whole Madara thing, it’s feeling more and more dangerous by the day. If you die tomorrow, do you really want the last thought to cross your mind to be the words left unsaid?”

His face is pinched now, like Neji is thinking of something else, some problem Sasuke doesn’t understand or recognize. He doesn’t speak again, though Sasuke waits a couple seconds.

He decides not to press the issue.

“Thanks. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but that was some pretty decent advice.”

Neji grins and tilts his nose up, snooty in that typical Hyuuga Clan way. 

“Don’t get used to it,” he replies. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the grounds. I wasn’t exactly free when you decided to stop by.”

Sasuke would feel embarrassed for his poor manners, but this is Neji, and he can tell from the other boy’s voice that he doesn’t actually give a shit either.

“Right. I’ll see you around.”

Neji waves him off, already walking back down the road towards the Hyuuga Estate.

\----

He and Itachi meet up at the Training Grounds bright and early the next morning, as per their unspoken agreement.

With Neji’s words fresh on his mind, Sasuke offers Itachi a smile in greeting.

If Itachi is taken aback by Sasuke’s shift in disposition, he doesn’t say.

“No sign of Madara,” Itachi announces abruptly, like he’s anticipating Sasuke’s questions.

Sasuke tries not to let his shoulders sag too much. 

“Any good news?” 

“We’ve come up with a plan for dealing with the Zetsu clones.”

Sasuke brightens a little at that. Last he heard, Zetsu was an abomination of a creature, more plant than human. He was supposedly immortal too, but that was going off of rumor. He supposes Itachi would know best, after spending so many years as Madara’s tool.

“Doesn’t he just,” Sasuke stops, searching for the right word to describe Zetsu, “...regrow when he’s wounded?”

Itachi nods. “Using blades and steel against him is a fool's’ errand. He can self-duplicate, so cutting a part of him off only results in another copy.”

Sasuke shudders at the thought. Naruto had always been a fan of the clone jutsu, and that was miserable enough to deal with. Zetsu and his copies won’t burst into smoke at the barest injury, though, and they certainly won’t play nice like Naruto did.

“Then how will we kill him?”

Itachi grins—it’s the smile of a killer, insincere with too many sharp teeth. Sasuke feels a small wave of fear course through him at the sight.

“We’re going to incinerate him. If he’s been reduced to ash, there won’t be anything left to duplicate.”

Sasuke can get on board with that. He’s good at fire jutsu even, and would love nothing more than to hurt one of the people responsible for Obito’s suffering.

He feels something like hope. All of Konoha’s Shinobi against three people are good odds.

“Getting Obito away from Madara won’t be very hard if that’s all we’re facing,” Sasuke offers, looking to Itachi to agree with him.

Itachi frowns. 

“It’s not that simple. Think, Sasuke. What reason does Madara have for waiting so long to attack, if all it does is give us more time to plan?”

Sasuke pauses. 

Itachi had said Zetsu could clone himself like some sort of twisted and self-propagating plant. He never said how Zetsy accomplished it, or how easily or how often Zetsu could do it.

His heart sinks.

“Zetsu is making copies ahead of time. They’re going to march into Konoha with an army.”

Itachi nods. 

“I’m not sure how many clones Zetsu can make before he spreads his chakra too thin, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he alone outnumbers all of Konoha’s Jounin.”

Sasuke shakes his head. “Still, we can take him out with some simple fire jutsu. It’s Madara and Obito we need to worry about. How are we going to stop them?”

Itachi sighs. “We still haven’t figured out the Madara situation. Though there are a couple ideas on the table that don’t sound completely farfetched.”

Disappointing, but Itachi had told him just as much last week.

“And Obito? There’s got to be some way of breaking him from Madara’s control, some way that doesn’t involve… killing him.”

He chokes the words back, too disturbed at the idea to even voice it. He can’t—he won’t—hurt Obito.

Itachi’s mouth presses into a thin line. “The Yamanakas have a few theories on that.”

He moves a step closer, laying a heavy hand across Sasuke’s shoulder. 

“You have to understand, this isn’t an easy process to undo. Madara had a whole year to lay Genjutsus over Obito, and that’s not even considering his immense skill with the Sharingan.”

The words are unwelcome but heartbreakingly true. Obito had been free of the man’s grasp for years, and all it had taken was one word from Madara to snap him right back into it. He shudders, feeling the faint ache in his back where Obito had embeded a kunai. 

“But we can snap him out!” Sasuke insists. He cannot consider the alternative.

“Maybe. If the two of us work together, provided we’ve isolated him from Madara and have enough time to do so.”

Sasuke nods. He’s dealt with tougher situations before, and he’s come out alive each and every time. This is doable.

Itachi looks at him, and Sasuke can see a glint of determination in his brother’s eyes.

He’s putting a lot on the line here, coming back to Konoha and turning on Madara. And he’s doing it for Sasuke. Whatever else he may say or do, Sasuke can trust him on that.

Sasuke knows what they have to do.

“We need to work on my Sharingan.”

\----

“Now, go over the basics again.”

Sasuke sighs, shifting around briefly. He and Itachi have settled themselves underneath a big tree and are sitting across from each other, so close their knees are touching.

Obito’s drilled him on the basics a thousand times before. Sasuke would much rather get to the practical application part of the lesson already.

“Keep my head clear, and don’t lose track of my surroundings.”

Itachi nods. “It can get confusing in someone’s mind, easier still to get lost in the complexity of it.”

Sasuke knows. The walled labyrinths of Naruto’s mind were vast enough to get stuck in, the smell of burning, evil chakra too distracting for him to properly focus.

“Don’t spend too much time inside, unless I want to pass out from chakra exhaustion.”

He’d only ever felt that practicing with Obito, but Obito was there to pull him out. He’d recognized the danger before Sasuke even realized it was a possibility.

“And?” Itachi presses. 

“Watch my back,” Sasuke offers. “A Sharingan user can and will defend themselves in their mind if they catch onto what I’m doing.”

Itachi gives him a long and hard glance.

His eyes flash red.

“I think you’re ready.”

Sasuke lets his body relax, feeling his chakra pathways fill with energy. He lets it circulate through his whole body, steady and even. It runs up the back of his neck, through his skull, eventually pooling like pressurized water behind Sasuke’s eyes. He flips a mental switch and blinks his eyes open.

The transition is instant and smooth, Sasuke’s surroundings warping around him until he sits in a dark cavernous room, the only light source some faintly glowing stars above his head.

It’s cold in here, enough to make Sasuke shiver a little. 

“Itachi?” He calls out, hoping his brother will find him before he gets too freaked out.

Obito’s mind was gentle and welcoming, the roots of the tree wide enough to sit down on.

Itachi has no such structures. There is only blackness, and Sasuke can’t quite tell if it stretches on forever, or if the walls are closing in.

“Focus on my chakra signature, Sasuke,” echoes back Itachi’s voice. He sounds very, very far away. “It is not always easy to navigate around a headspace, but if you let your instincts guide you and keep calm, you shouldn’t have too much trouble.”

He breathes in and out, dropping his shoulders and widening his stance. 

Sasuke imagines Itachi’s chakra, deep blue and sharp like his own, and tinged with something darker.

The blackness shifts before him, twisting and warping with Sasuke at the focal point. He tries not to heave, the disorientation a bit like the feeling he gets when Obito teleports them somewhere with Kamui.

The corners of his visions flatten out, slowly spreading to the center, and Sasuke feels his feet hit solid ground again.

The world is brighter now, enough for Sasuke to make out the silhouette of trees against the night sky. He stands on a cobblestone walkway situated in a small clearing. The road stretches out in front of him to a dark wooden shrine. Itachi kneels in front of it, and Sasuke breathes a sigh of relief.

He approaches slowly, not bothering to hide his presence but not announcing it either. Coming to a stop behind Itachi, he takes a second glance at the shrine. The wood is not dark as he first thought, but completely burned through. If he were to reach forward and touch it, he thinks it might crumble beneath his fingers.

Resting on the shrine are a few small trinkets, which Sasuke recognizes upon further examination. His mother’s matching necklace and earrings rest there, the silver tarnished and rusting. There is a kunai next to it, engraved with the initials “U.F.” It’s chipped away along one side, clearly unusable in its current form. Beside that is a torn photograph, which lays perfectly still despite the gentle night breeze. Sasuke well enough anyways. His mother had marched them out to a photography studio downtown one week, insisting they need more family photos before “both her babies were all grown up.” All the faces have been scratched off, except for his own. His six-year-old self grins wide and gap-toothed.

Sasuke turns away.

“You made it,” Itachi speaks, getting off his knees and turning to face Sasuke.

“I did,” Sasuke says, trying not to let too much pride shine through in his voice. “I’ve never found someone in their own mind before.”

Obito had always come to him, and Sasuke doesn’t count Kurama as an actual person.

“When the time comes, it won’t be hard to find Obito either. You know his chakra signature well.”

Cool and deep green, like evergreen trees. It’s close to the profile of Sasuke and Itachi’s chakra, but not similar enough to marked as immediate family.

“I’ve been in his mind before too,” Sasuke offers. “It shouldn't be hard to navigate my way around.”

“Potentially,” Itachi warns. “We can’t predict if his mind will be unchanged, or even recognizable under Madara’s control.”

Sasuke feels that painful lurch of despair in his gut once more but shoves it out of the way. He won’t give up yet. Not without trying first. Not without trying a thousand times.

“Right.”

He shifts uncomfortably. 

“So, how do we break the Genjutsu?”

“Carefully,” Itachi replies. He pushes past Sasuke, retreating down the cobblestone path. Sasuke follows.

“You don’t have the Mangekyou, and with any luck, you’ll never develop it.”

Sasuke looks up sharply. 

“Is that going to be a problem?”

Itachi shrugs. “It shouldn’t be, provided we train you well enough right now. And if all goes according to plan, I’ll be there to help you.”

Sasuke nods. Still, Itachi’s urgent tone doesn’t sit well with him.

“Why bother to bring it up?”

Itachi sighs, stopping to face Sasuke. “The Mangekyou, as terrible as it may be, can prove to be a great asset in battle. It’s more potent than a regular Sharingan, and more efficient too.”

Sasuke frowns. “That won’t matter if we’re fast enough.”

“There are...other abilities that come with the Mangekyou.”

Sasuke scowls. “Like the Tsukuyomi?” 

Images of his parents’ deaths and Itachi’s betrayal flash before his eyes. 

“Yes.” The guilt is clear across Itachi’s face.

“I wouldn’t subject Obito to that kind of torture if I was under threat of death,” Sasuke warns.

“And I wouldn’t expect you to. The Kamui is another such ability—a highly unique one at that.”

Obito’s stupid pocket dimension? 

“...I didn't know it was rare.”

“There hasn’t been an Uchiha with Kamui in over a century. Obito, and Kakashi by extension, are special.”

Sasuke’s not surprised. He never needed a stupid Sharingan ability to tell him that, though. Obito is special in the kind of way that doesn’t rely on battle prowess and physical strength.

“What does Madara have?”

“That’s the problem,” Itachi says. “Madara has the Susanoo.”

Sasuke’s heard the term before, mentioned in old Uchiha texts he never had the stomach to read fully. The Sharingan and its capabilities are still not something he’s entirely comfortable with.

“It’s a physical manifestation of someone’s chakra force, rendering them nearly invincible.”

“Oh,” Sasuke says. 

The conversation trails off, both of them too preoccupied with their own concerns to continue.

The path around them is growing more and more bumpy, the clean stone overgrown with weeds and cracked with age.

It’s not darker, exactly, but the glow of the stars has faded. Sasuke looks down at his hands and is surprised to see them cast in the tint of reddish light. He searches for an obvious light source but can find none in his vicinity.

Itachi’s pace has slowed, the dark outline his shoulders blocking out Sasuke’s views down the path. He cranes his neck to see past.

There, stuck to the path is the source of the light. Sasuke can’t quite describe it, except to say that it looks like an open and bloody wound the size of his torso. It’s not so transparent as chakra but Sasuke can sense energy coming off it in rhythmic waves all the same. It pulses, too, like it’s alive.

Itachi’s stopped walking now.

“This is what Madara’s influence looks like, if left to rot.”

Sasuke looks at Itachi with a dawning sense of horror. He didn’t know Madara had tampered with Itachi’s mind, too.

“I’m pretty good at getting rid of these, but some are hard to reach. Some are impossible to undo by myself.”

“What—” Sasuke pauses, trying not to panic, “What did this do?” 

“It was a kill order,” Itachi says, waving his hand away. “Nothing I couldn’t slip out of with some concentrated effort. Still, it doesn’t stop the impulses.”

“Do the Yamanakas know?” Sasuke hopes desperately that they do, since they’ve already cleared Itachi of any potential crimes. Some deeper part of him wonders if this is all part of Madara’s plan, if Itachi has lured him into a false sense of calm and straight into his mind where he can kill Sasuke with ease.

“They do,” Itachi says. “Neither they nor Tsunade could quite heal me though. It seems the only way to undo a Sharingan-induced Genjutsu is through intervention of another Sharingan.”

Sasuke nods. “So where do we start?”

\----

They’ve removed three of the things when Sasuke starts to feel a headache coming on.

Itachi has held back, letting Sasuke do most of the dirty work for him. Sasuke’s not quite sure whether that was intentional, or if Itachi truly didn’t have the ability to remove Madara’s compulsion from himself. Sasuke won’t press the issue, though.

“I think I’m hitting my limit.”

If Itachi is disappointed, he doesn’t let on. 

“Alright. That’s enough training for today then.”

He grabs Sasuke’s arm, and there’s a popping sensation in Sasuke’s ears as the world contorts once more. 

He comes to on the grass, his legs pinpricking with pins-and-needles where’s he’s kept them in the same position for too long. Sasuke’s eyes are dry and aching, and he realizes that he never blinked while in Itachi’s mind. The connection would have broken otherwise. 

He wonders briefly if it would be worth it to keep eyedrops on the battlefield. 

Itachi looks a bit uncomfortable too, but there’s something lighter about him, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

Madara’s presence must have been painful to carry for so long. Sasuke hopes Obito is okay, if his mind has been augmented so much more.

It’s such a small concern to have, when he or his friends may not be alive this time next year. Madara showed no hesitation with his own descendants, and Sasuke doubts he’ll treat Konoha differently.

“Do you know what I’ll develop?”

Itachi’s brow wrinkles, confused.

“What my Mangekyou ability will be,” Sasuke clarifies. “On the off chance it activates.”

Itachi’s expression softens out into something more sympathetic, almost too soft for Sasuke to recognize.

“No. There are many different abilities available, the Kamui and Tsukuyomi being among them.”

“What about the Susanoo?” Sasuke’s voice pitches up at the end, his fear bleeding through. He’s torn between some distant hope that he’ll awaken the same abilities as Madara so that they may have a way to face him, and the paralyzing fear of watching another loved one die.

“The Susanoo is not a natural gift, Sasuke,” Itachi says, voice pitching low like he’s afraid someone will overhear them. “It is only possible through the use of two different eyes—one with the Tsukuyomi and one with the Ameratsu.”

Ameratsu. Sasuke has heard of it before, in old scrolls. It’s the Tsukuyomi’s opposite, as unyielding and deadly to the body as the Tsukuyomi is to the mind. It wasn’t really described beyond the vaguest terms, either too terrifying to remember or deliberately ignored to preserve the secrets of the Uchiha.

“He killed his own brother to achieve the Mangekyou, and stole his eye to obtain control over the Susanoo.”

His own brother. Sasuke cannot fathom the cruelty of such an act. Even in his lowest, most miserable moments, he didn’t think he could kill Itachi with his own hands.

Danzo had stolen their eyes too, but he didn’t stoop so low as to kill for them. He only looted and defiled the bodies where Madara must have done both.

“It’s not fair,” Sasuke whispers.

Why is it that power is only attainable for the most evil beings that walk this earth? Madara has lived long past his natural lifespan, is healthy even, and all he’s done is destroy. Pein used the Rinnegan to level Konoha in less than a day. 

Even the ancient beasts, evil incarnate, are gifted immortality and the strength to raze villages to the ground. 

Shinobi are that on a smaller scale. They serve unjust leaders and kill innocents for money, all so they can have a little more power in this world.

He’s so fucking tired of it.

Maybe Itachi doesn’t know what to say, or maybe he’s caught off guard, but he offers no sage words of advice or comforting promises. 

Obito would have.

But Sasuke can’t expect Itachi to understand. For all that his brother might be trying, he won’t be the same as he was before. 

Some wounds never heal.

\----

Naruto barges in that evening with a fresh bag of groceries and a determined set to his jaw.

“Why are you here, Goldilocks?” Sasuke asks, tired and sore and grumpy from a long day of training.

Naruto doesn’t comment on the old nickname, nor does he seem deterred by Sasuke’s less-than-friendly welcome.

“I’m making dinner, obviously.”

Sasuke would complain, except the next words out of his mouth are interrupted by the loud gurgle of his stomach.

Naruto looks at him with his stupid smug face, and Sasuke knows he’s already lost the argument. He doesn’t mind.

Sasuke pulls up a chair and takes a seat at the table.

While Naruto’s rummaging around in the cabinet for whatever appliance, Sasuke peers into the grocery bags. An array of vegetables, some jars of spice, and a carton of coconut milk.

“What are you making?”

Naruto turns around, a triumphant smile on his face and a deep pan in hand.

“We are making curry.”

Sasuke sighs. He’s picky about how his curry is prepared.

“Don’t worry, duck-butt,” Naruto singsongs, tapping him on the top of the head with a wooden spoon, “I bought lots of tomatoes for it, and we’ll hold off on the spice.”

Sasuke blinks in surprise. Tomato is of a controversial ingredient in Konoha-style curry. It also happens to be Sasuke’s favorite vegetable.

Naruto is still moving around the small kitchen, pouring water into various pots and muttering what sounds like a recipe to himself.

Sasuke finds himself staring as Naruto works. It’s not some teenage-hormone induced lust, nor is it the guilt-tinted gaze he’s been viewing Naruto with as of late. He’s just glad to have someone here, filling in the empty spaces Obito left behind. Naruto’s always been good at doing that, with his overwhelming personality and mile-a-minute mouth. There’s nostalgia there too, which Sasuke finds all the more assuring in the face of Itachi’s reappearance in his life and the various revelations he’s had about the Uchiha Massacre.

“If you want tomatoes in the curry, you better start scoring them right now.”

Sasuke looks up in confusion.

“I’m not putting them in the curry if they’re not peeled and deseeded first,” Naruto warns.

“Right,” Sasuke says after a beat. He picks up the small paring knife Naruto must have left on the table for him and reaches for the brown paper bag full of tomatoes. There’s a lot in it, definitely more than necessary for two servings of curry.

He smiles. “Are you taking the leftovers back with you, or do I get to keep them?”

Naruto laughs. “I’m pretty confident that I’ll be the one walking out of here with a bag full of tupperware by the end of the night.”

Sasuke scores another tomato. He wants to provoke, but not in a mean way. Picking a fight with Naruto is safe ground, the practice going back to the days when they were both just scrappy tweens with too much energy to spare. Playful, maybe, is the right word for how he feels.

“I thought you were the negotiator,” Sasuke teases. “And I’m the one in a delicate mental state here—don’t I deserve leftovers for tomorrow?”

There’s a dull thud as Naruto chops a potato on the cutting board.

“I’m off the clock on that whole diplomat nonsense! But your argument is convincing.” Naruto grins. “We’ll just have to wait and see how good the curry is before we decide.”

“Fine,” Sasuke says. Better to concede now with the last word than drag out the conversation as Naruto talks circles around him.

He finishes cutting the last tomato, looking to Naruto for further instruction. Naruto gestures vaguely to one of the many water-filled pots on the stove before turning back to mincing. Sasuke supposes that’s the nice part about cooking with Shinobi and those familiar with blades—prep work always gets done quickly.

Sasuke places the tomatoes in the near-boiling water, careful to pull his fingers away before the water can splash up. He watches with a detached interest as the red skin starts to peel away from the tomato pulp, like blistering human flesh on a fire-scorched battlefield.

Konoha, reduced to rubble and ash, under the twin red stares of Madara and Obito.

He blinks again and looks away.

Naruto is humming under his breath, some nameless and inane melody that sounds more like a schoolyard taunt or drinking shanty than a legitimate song. He’s almost weightless as he moves about, the very picture of youthful fun.

Sasuke can tell when Naruto is putting up masks. But the way he leaves the measuring cups stacked and crooked, the small spring in his step as he dumps spices into a simmering pot, the peaceful smile he has on his face—it’s all completely genuine. 

And Sasuke, in his personal limbo of misery, can’t understand why.

Naruto catches him staring, blue eyes meeting brown.

Sasuke scrambles for an excuse, scared that he’ll chase Naruto off with his intensity. 

“Um, how have the...politics been?”

The politics? Sasuke curses himself mentally.

“Signing agreements and shaking hands?”

Not any better.

A wrinkle appears in Naruto’s brow, and Sasuke despairs. He’s thrown off Naruto’s grove, he’s made it weird again, and now Naruto’s going to leave and it will be just like it was after that mission with Karin and Tenten and Asuma and he can’t do that again, not when his whole world is falling apart—

“There’s a soft travel ban right now,” Naruto says. That weightlessness, that guileless joy has already seeped out of his shoulders. Still, this sudden shift is just as genuine as the Naruto of twenty seconds ago was.

“A ban?” Sasuke hadn’t heard anything about that. But he hasn't exactly been outside of the city recently. 

“The Hokage is a bit concerned with Madara right now, so he’s not letting anybody above baseline civilian merchants out of Konoha.”

Sasuke can read between the lines. The Yondaime, Naruto’s father, won’t risk losing his son, not after he lost Obito.

“Sometimes I think I should just run away,” Naruto whispers, face turned away from Sasuke’s own. “Leave Konoha before it can get destroyed for my sake again.”

Right, the Nine-Tails.

The wedge that drove him and Naruto apart, or at least instigated their breakup. The reason Pein attacked Konoha, and the reason Madara is planning to do the same.

And even here, with Naruto across from him, cheek scars darkened in the kitchen lighting, Sasuke had almost forgotten about Kurama.

It’s funny what a little perspective can do to a situation.

Sasuke realizes abruptly that Naruto is still sitting there, something like desperation stretching across his face. It’s an unfamiliar expression, the kind Sasuke imagines Naruto must have made often in his early childhood, before his mother had reclaimed him and his Uzumaki heritage, and far before he ever set foot in Konoha.

It’s upsetting, to know that the person he’s relied on so heavily for support and encouragement over these past few years is reverting back a scared little boy. Sasuke knows, because Madara has rendered him the same.

“No,” Sasuke says.

He’s been angry for as long as he can remember. Sasuke knows the feeling as intimately as his own flesh-and-blood, and there is no other word than “rage” for what he’s feeling right now. 

The only difference is a change in focus. He has a place to channel his hate, and a lofty target in Uchiha Madara. 

He’s a man so evil, he might as well have sprung fully formed out of a children’s novel or epic poem—good thing Sasuke is an avid reader.

He smiles, sharp and scheming. 

Naruto looks back at him with watery eyes, mouth slightly agape.

“This is exactly what Madara wants—he divides and conquers, tearing down people until they fall at his feet or die by his hands, and I’m sick and tired of it.”

“Sasuke—” Naruto starts.

“He did it to my brother and the rest of the Uchiha Clan, and he did it to me and Obito. Can’t you see how he’s trying to scare you and the rest of Konoha?”

“Of course I can see it!” Naruto replies, a fiery glint in his eye and blonde eyebrows scrunched down. “If I really thought running away would help, I would have done it days, weeks, years ago.”

Sasuke shakes his head. He can feel a slight change in the air around them, the acidic edge when Naruto gets angry. It’s not what he wants, and not what he’s trying to say.

“It goes further than that.” He reaches out, across the table, grasping Naruto’s hands in his own. A simple show of trust, the contact stilling Naruto’s pent-up fury. The pressure in the room subsides slightly.

“How so?”

“He turns our very souls against us. Uchiha against Uchiha, Konoha Shinobi against their ancestors, even Obito against himself. He’s done it to you too, without direct influence.”

Naruto’s hands grip at his midsection. Sasuke would think he was sick to his stomach, if he didn’t know about the seal hidden away beneath simple henges and layers of soft orange fabric. 

Now he’s got Naruto listening—Naruto and something deeper than that. The demon beneath the surface, who pulls enemies into Konoha like moths to a flame. A flame that could burn Konoha to a crisp just as easily.

Sasuke would love nothing more than to scorch Madara. Even at the cost of his own life and sanity, even if it means ruining his relationship with Naruto forever, or losing the trust of the other Shinobi, or a thousand other things that can go just as dangerously wrong. 

He has to ask.

“Can you talk to Kurama?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10,000 apologies for taking so long to update. I hit finals seasons and wrote like 12 papers in the span of a month? I don't even remember at this point. ANYWAYS! I'm hoping to finish this story by the end of June at the latest.


	15. Only Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update? It's more likely than you think. 
> 
> Warnings for gore.

The sirens start in the early afternoon, a few hours from when the sun will shine down at its highest. Sasuke breaks from his katas at the noise, jarred but not entirely surprised.

Something has felt off the entire day, more so than any other day this week. The morning fog had burned off into an oppressive heat a couple hours ago, and from there, all of Konoha’s discomfort and tension grew.

But Sasuke feels a perverse sort-of relief at knowing today will be the day Madara attacks. They’re a little over a month from the day that Madara reappeared, the day Sasuke’s entire life was yanked out from under him in a way all too similar to the Uchiha Massacre.

He supposes he’s grateful for the time, for the chance to make things right with Itachi and for the extra training. Still, waiting is a special kind of hell, and Sasuke is not nearly patient enough to deal with this existence for much longer.

Sasuke’s so relieved he almost feels like smiling as he makes his way to the Hokage tower, except somewhere at the back of his mind, a vicious doubt creeps in. 

The fact of the matter is, Sasuke has no idea if he’ll be alive by nightfall, or even if Konoha will remain standing.

\----

The plaza outside of the Hokage Tower is crowded, busy and tense the way it was on the day of Danzo’s criminal sentencing. Sasuke pushes his way through a swarm of panicked civilians and past their Chunin escorts, noting how the Shinobi seem to be guiding them back towards downtown and away from the front gates. 

When he breaks past the throng of people, Sasuke comes face-to-face with a line of stoic Special Jounin, each one with rigid posture and a perfectly pressed flak vest. A Jounin marches his way up and down the line, clipboard in hand and occasionally barking orders into the crowd. 

“Excuse me,” Sasuke calls out.

The man looks up, pale Hyuuga eyes meeting Sasuke’s own. He frowns.

Sasuke ignores the annoyed look, pressing on. He points up at the Hokage Tower above them, shifting his glance to the guarded front doors.

“I think I need to report to the Hokage.”

The man flips a couple pages over on his clipboard before staring back at Sasuke.

“Name and rank?”

Sasuke resists the urge to roll his eyes—it’s not like Konoha is full of Uchihas or anything.

“Uchiha Sasuke, Jounin.”

The man nods in confirmation, waving a hand at the guards by the door.

Sasuke slips inside quickly, all too eager to leave the chaos of the plaza behind him.

\----

The Hokage’s office doesn’t seem to be much better off, in either organization or occupancy. The halls are lined with people, the building secretaries arguing with Special Jounin, elder council members embroiled in discussions, even T&I employees scrounging around for paperwork.

Sasuke dodges a twitchy intern and gruff receptionist, sliding further down the hallway. Every office room door is thrown open, and while Sasuke doesn’t deliberately stare, he can clearly make out the silhouettes of the Council Elders, huddled over a large conference room desk. 

For all their commitment to tradition and influence over Konoha’s politics, they’re useless right now. Old, out of practice, and some not even Shinobi-trained, the Elders would be mowed over by Madara the second their feet hit the battlefield. He’s seen how they yielded to Danzo, back when the wretched man was still alive, and Sasuke knows without a doubt in his mind that they would just as quickly throw away the lives of all the Shinobi and civilians down in the plaza below.

Sasuke takes a deep breath in, reminding himself that the council will not be in charge today. Instead, the Yondaime will take over as a capable leader and powerful Shinobi in his own right. His experience in the Third Shinobi War and reputation as a genius on the warfront are assuring, even when Sasuke knows they still don’t have a concrete plan for taking down Madara. At least, not one that the general population has been informed of.

Unlike every other room on the floor, the wide double doors to the Hokage’s office are shut tight. Sasuke pushes them open, squinting against the harsh sunlight that filters in from the large window behind the Hokage’s desk.

Eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the light, Sasuke takes in the scene before him.

The Hokage and some other advisors are clustered together behind his desk. They're all older, Obito’s age and up, and all in matching flak vests. Sasuke spots a man who looks eerily similar to Shikamaru, and quickly deduces that these must be the Hokage’s most trusted advisors and commanders. He wonders if it will matter, if Madara is really bringing a whole army to Konoha by the end of the day.

Leaning against the wall to Sasuke’s left are two brilliant heads of red, a mop of bright blonde squeezed between them. If Kushina and Karin are solemn in stature and expression, then Naruto is a bundle of nerves, practically vibrating off the floor. It’s strange to seem him this way in such a professional environment, something so terribly vulnerable in the way he twists his sleeve back and forth in a repetitive motion. 

Sasuke supposes it only makes sense—other than him and Itachi, Naruto has the most to lose from this attack.

Whatever doubts he may have about Naruto’s composure are averted, because Naruto looks up quickly at his entrance, blue eyes making direct contact. He nods once, sharp and short, before straightening out his shoulders and letting his hands drop to his sides.

Sasuke would stop to talk with him, except Tsunade and some Special Jounin cut him off on the way there, filling up the empty space as they pace and debrief around the already cramped office. Tsunade’s voice booms above the rest of the chatter, her very presence parting the sea of people swarming around her. 

In this moment, if Sasuke were asked to point out the Hokage without any prior knowledge, he thinks his answer would be her. It makes him wonder what it must have been like when the Sanin were still a team, in the prime of their fighting prowess and prestige. Something like that, maybe, could equal the intensity Sasuke experienced at Madara’s presence. 

Luckily, the swift movement of Shinobi frees up space along the right wall, and Sasuke finds exactly what—or who—he’s looking for. 

Itachi and Kakashi notice him at the same time, and without further hesitation, Sasuke makes his way over.

Itachi nods as he approaches, face neutral as ever. It makes sense in a way, that he’s the most prepared out of anyone here. He’s been living under Madara’s cruelty for longer than everyone in Konoha, and he’s had just as long to prepare.

Kakashi, by contrast, is more disheveled than usual, the lines around his one visible eye heavy and tired. As Sasuke gets closer, he can see his teacher’s shoulders curl in. Eye contact averted too, which Sasuke expected. He just can’t figure out if Kakashi won’t look at him out of shame or pain. He knows he doesn’t look anything like Obito really, not when Itachi is here for comparison. But there’s something to be said for the way Sasuke carries himself, or maybe the presence he has—Obito is, after all, the man who raised him.

Kakashi helped raise him too, though. 

And Kakashi had just up and abandoned him after Obito disappeared, vanishing from Sasuke’s hospital room without second thought. The only person in the village who could have possibly understood how Sasuke felt wasn’t there when Sasuke needed him most. 

And when he dragged himself back to Konoha last week, practically catatonic in exhaustion and grief, Sasuke realized that it was all pointless. A mission failure, with nothing to show for it. 

That defeated man is the one who stands before Sasuke today. Not his teacher, not his protector, and not his friend. Sure, he’ll help Itachi and Sasuke on the battlefield today, but Sasuke knows where his true priorities lie. If Obito isn’t out of the picture one way or another, they can’t rely on Kakashi. 

He’s not mad about it. Sasuke was one bad day away from pulling the same shit Kakashi did. The only difference between them is that Sasuke’s out for blood. As desperately as he wants to save Obito, he wants—he needs—to destroy Madara. Unfinished family business, if it can even be called that.

Wordlessly, Sasuke comes to Itachi’s side, putting his brother between himself and Kakashi. He slumps against the wall, quiet as he watches the commotion continue in the rest of the office. 

\----

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” the Hokage loudly declares once they’ve all organized themselves and quieted down. Sasuke’s eyes scan the room once more, coming to a belated realization that other than Naruto and Karin, he is the youngest person here. He’s not sure if that’s a comforting thought or a concerning one.

“As you know,” the Hokage continues, “I’ve called you up here out of all our Shinobi forces for a very specific reason.”

_Saving Obito and killing Madara,_ Sasuke thinks to himself.

“You are among the best and most experienced soldiers in all of Konoha. I’m counting on you to lead your squadrons with the wisdom and strength of our forefathers.”

_Forefathers like Uchiha Madara?_ The irony here is almost painful. A quick glance at Itachi’s face, and Sasuke can see his brother is thinking the exact same thing.

“If Tsunade has spoken to you already, you are dismissed. Your squadrons are waiting down below in the plaza.” The Hokage’s icy blue eyes scan the group, landing on Sasuke and Itachi. “If you have not been given orders, stay.”

Sasuke remains motionless as Shinobi trickle out of the room, catching snippets of hushed and nervous conversations. He recognizes so few faces here. Faces who’ve seen war and cruelty and terror, horrors Sasuke can only imagine. He wonders how many will survive to the end of the night. 

But if that’s the case, then what chance do Sasuke’s peers have? 

A grip on his shoulder startles Sasuke out of his morbid train of thought. He looks to his left and finds Kakashi waiting there, staring at him with something like understanding in his eyes. 

Together, they step closer to the Hokage’s desk, where significantly less people are waiting. Tsunade at the Yondaime’s left shoulder and Shikaku at his right. Kushina, Karin, and Naruto are still here too, along with five Shinobi Sasuke doesn’t recognize. ANBU members out of uniform, possibly?

“Thank you for waiting,” the Hokage says, voice a touch bit softer than it was when he addressed the whole room. “I’ve kept you all here to discuss our two other priorities besides the army of Zetsu.”

“Obito,” Kakashi mutters, loud enough for them all to hear. 

The Hokage nods. “He will be a problem as long as he’s under Madara’s control. That’s why our three Sharingan users are being tasked with handling it.”

“With all due respect,” interrupts one of the unfamiliar men, “wouldn’t it make more sense to have them counter Madara’s Sharingan?”

Sasuke scowls. People think the Sharingan is some magical weapon, a guaranteed trump card to play when nothing else will work. Perhaps it’s because the Sharingan has become so rare, or because Madara is such a monster, but the people of Konoha and beyond have come to believe that the Sharingan is far more powerful than other bloodline limits when the opposite is true. He can’t imagine a Clan like the Hyuugas being slaughtered by their ancestor so easily.

He’s about to speak up, enraged the man would even suggest something so stupid, but someone beats him to it.

“No,” Tsunade fires back. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and her mouth is smoothed into a flat line. It’s a look Sasuke has had the misfortune of being on the other side of, and despite knowing that it’s not being directed at him, he still feels a shiver down his spine.

“If you’d paid any attention to the state of the Uchiha Clan or Uchiha Obito’s current circumstances, you’d know the Sharingan doesn’t work that way.”

The man looks away, clearly chastised by Tsunade’s words. But she’s not done.

“You’re clearly on the young side, so I’ll put this in a way even someone as inexperienced as you can understand—wars are not won with reason or intelligence. You do what you have to do to survive, and not an inch more.” 

She looks up at the rest of them, addressing the whole room now. 

“We will allocate resources in order to keep Konoha standing by tomorrow morning. If that means placing people and abilities in configurations that don’t make immediate sense, it is not your job to question it.”

“Tsunade,” the Hokage interrupts, soft-spoken but authoritative all the same. “That’s enough.”

She nods, stepping back to his side. The room is tense now in a way it wasn’t before, the background chatter and chaos of a couple minutes ago swept out of the area like a vacuum.

The Hokage must notice it too, because he cocks a smile and speaks again.

“Tsunade, as glad as I am to have you at my side when we face Madara, I do worry about the other medics. How ever will they pull themselves together without your fearless leadership?”

His voice is completely deadpan, and it takes Sasuke a second to realize it’s sarcasm, eerily similar to the way Shikamaru likes to speak.

Tsunade snorts.

“Fearless leadership isn’t the right phrase,” she muses.

“Insensitive? Hard-assed?” Kushina offers, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“I was thinking “tough love,” Tsunade fires back.

“Tough love it is!” The Hokage replies, clapping his hands like he’s just discovered a new jutsu or something of equal importance.

Sasuke watches, mouth agape as three of the most powerful people in all of Konoha pass jokes back and forth like schoolyard children, as if this isn’t a meeting concerning the village’s imminent invasion and potential destruction.

Karin coughs into her hand, drawing attention to herself where she’s tucked away behind Kushina’s right shoulder. She may have “resting bitch face,” as Sakura and the others have so kindly put it, but even Karin looks visibly bothered by the scene in front of her.

“All fun aside,” she says after she’s snagged everyone’s attention, “I still have some questions about today’s logistics.” 

Sasuke hears her pause over the word “question,” like another, more uncertain word almost came out instead. Concerns, not questions, he thinks she means.

“And I will do my best to answer them,” the Hokage replies, instantly back to his severe and commanding demeanor. “I apologize for the distraction.”

Karin nods in silent acceptance. Her brown eyes are red in the sunlight office as they scan back and forth across the rest of them until finally landing on Kushina and Naruto.

“Me and my family are in a strange predicament,” she explains slowly. “We are trained as Shinobi, but legally, we do not owe loyalty to the village. What will you have us do, when Madara comes?”

It’s a good question, one Sasuke hadn’t really thought about in the many nights he’s visualized this exact scenario.

The Hokage stares back, face pinched in a way Sasuke doesn’t understand.

“It goes without saying that Uzumaki Naruto must evacuate with the rest of the civilians through the backside of town”

Naruto doesn’t huff or frown or saying anything, but Sasuke can still feel the disappointment radiating off of him.

The Hokage looks pained at his reaction. 

“As a special interest of Madara’s, I think it would be best if we sent you away. I will assign ANBU guards to protect you, whatever good they may do against Madara and his forces.”

And there it is, the unspoken admission that they will most likely not through the night. And how can they, when Madara is bringing Zetsu and Obito and whatever Tailed Beasts he may have captured and consumed? If one were to look at this logically, sending Naruto away is the best option, lest the Nine Tails fall into Madara’s hands.

Sasuke can’t imagine how it must feel for the Yondaime, to have to order his own son away because he knows he cannot protect him.

“As for you two, that will be your choice. You can accompany Naruto out of the village with the rest of your clan, if that is what you chose to do.”

Sasuke breaths in sharp. He’d expected the Hokage to send Naruto away, but not Karin and Kushina too. Not when he’d played this conversation out so many times before.

“There’s another option,” the Hokage continues, cutting off Sasuke’s spiraling chain-of-thought, “I know it’s not fair of me to suggest that you put yourselves on the line for Konoha, but your chakra chains could prove useful agains—”

“I’m staying,” Kushina interrupts. 

She’s shorter than Sasuke, only coming up to his shoulder in height, with her long, flashy hair trailing down her back and a finely-embroidered robe on. Not the kind of person easily visualized as a warrior or soldier.

But there’s something to her face. A determination and a will, and maybe the smallest bit of anger. It scares Sasuke.

“I’ve fought at Konoha’s side in wars before, and I’ll gladly do it again,” she clarifies, with eyes only towards the Hokage. And he smiles back, the slightest bit watery.

Sasuke almost feels guilty about hearing this exchange. It’s something that’s meant for private, not in a war room with ten other people, but time and resources just won’t allow that. Sasuke wonders briefly if they’d been like this before too, back when the Yondaime and Uzumaki Kushina were just fellow soldiers.

Not for the first time, Sasuke wishes he could see his friends for apologies and comfort, and maybe even last words, as unhappy as he is to admit it.

The moment passes quickly though, because the Hokage is turning those baby blues on Karin, who scowls.

“Sorry Naruto,” she says, “looks like you’ll be fending off our great-aunts on your own. I’m staying here to fight.”

Sasuke can’t say he expected a different answer.

\----

They break not long after, everybody going their separate ways to prepare.

Sasuke lingers behind, caught somewhere between his early morning excitement and a new sense of trepidation. Staring out the window at all the soldiers below, Sasuke thinks perhaps he’s close to the latter. Knowing that friends and family will die can do that to a person.

“Fate can be crueler than even the Tailed Beasts,” says a voice from over Sasuke’s shoulder. He jumps in surprise, then feels immediately stupid for it, because out of the corner of his vision, he can make out Kushina’s red hair.

She steps forward and closer, peering down at the window in the same direction Sasuke’s looking.

He’s not sure what to say.

“Not too long ago, but older than you could possibly remember, I lost my village to war,” she admits quietly.

“Uzushio,” Sasuke offers.

“Yes. The Land of Whirlpools.” The corner of her mouth tilts up in profile. “It was a beautiful place, its pristine white beaches and deep blue oceans tempered only by fifty-foot waves and gray stormy skies.”

Sasuke’s learned about monsoon seasons before, if only from weathered books and passing conversations with traveling merchants.

“We were small but powerful, more clan than nation.”

Sasuke has heard of that too, from population demographics and historical scrolls, back in the days of his childhood fascination with the Uzumakis.

“And then the Third Shinobi War happened?”

She nods, smile fading from her face. 

“Things that are powerful are not meant to last. Just look at the Sannin, or the Yondaime’s predecessors.”

Sasuke wants so badly to argue, to point out that Tsunade is still here and fighting, that the legacy of Konoha’s former leaders lives on in the Yondaime, but he senses there is something more to Kushina’s statement.

She continues a beat later.

“Uzushio fell in a single day. One day to change the course of history, and one day that changed the rest of my life.”

Sasuke can understand that. In many ways, the Uchiha Massacre defines him too.

“I spent years wondering if I was wrong for not being there. If I should have gone home when they asked me to, to fight and die with the rest of my people.”

“No,” Sasuke says, a touch too firmly. “You were meant to survive. The good you’ve done since, the legacy you’ve established, it’s all worth it.”

Kushina smiles again, but Sasuke can hear the way her breath hitches. A mask to hide her true emotions, the way Naruto has always excelled. Except she’s not doing a good job now.

“I know. And that’s why I’m so afraid right now. I don't think I can live with surviving, if Konoha is destroyed too.”

Sasuke draws a blank. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t understand why Kushina is telling him this, of all people. He doesn’t even know why it all sounds so familiar. 

What will he do, if Obito happens to die? Sasuke doesn’t know the answer, just like he doesn’t know the solution to Kushina’s dilemma. 

He settles on something comforting.

“We’ve sent word to Suna and Ame,” Sasuke offers, hating how insincere his voice sounds.

“And they will come, because they are true allies,” Kushina says flatly, “but they will not make it here by tomorrow. When both forces arrive in three days, we will either greet them in celebration and victory, or as nothing more than a smoldering pile of ashes.”

“Victory it is,” Sasuke says. He cannot fathom the other option.

\----

From the top of the gates, Sasuke can see Madara’s army.

Identical in appearance, he almost shivers at the sight of the hundreds—thousands—of Zetsu clones less than a mile out. Madara and Obito are nowhere in sight.

Below the gate, chaotic and disorganized despite their best efforts, are the majority of Konoha’s forces. They’re all here for the same reason, risking life and limb to defend the place they call home. His own friends are down there too, Sakura somewhere between here and the medical tents, and Shikamaru, Neji, Sai, and the others probably being organized into individual battalions. He hopes they’re assigned together, so they can watch each other’s backs.

A slight movement at Sasuke’s side startles him, but he relaxes when he sees his brother’s familiar face. 

Together, they stare back out at the horizon, searching for the telltale signs of Obito’s Kamui.

If there’s anything to be grateful for in this entire situation, it’s that Madara's forces have come from the east. Sasuke’s back is turned to the western-setting sun, and the shadows he and the rest of Konoha cast over the land are imposing. 

He worried briefly, about nighttime visibility. Itachi had assured him that there were plenty of flashlights and headbeams to go around, not that they’d need them with all the fire jutsu directed at the Zetsu.

The reminder of the slash-and-burn strategy assured Sasuke, until he remembered that they were in the middle of dry season, and open combat in Konoha’s surrounding forests would surely lead to wildfires.

In the end, he held his tongue. Death was death, whether it came from an enemy’s kunai or smoke-inhalation.

The Zetsu crest the nearest hill, less than five hundred feet from the edge of Konoha’s army.

Sasuke tenses, but keeps his eyes glued to the horizon.

\----

“There!”

Sasuke’s fingers twitch, every one of his nerves on fire as he tries to peer past the ash-laden battlefield. Itachi’s finger is extended northwest, towards the edges of the main fighting. The shadows seep into the trees there, obscuring everything but the occasional flares of chakra.

Sasuke would dismiss it, except Kakashi is gazing intently at the spot too. Sasuke squints, waiting for the telltale signs of the Kamui.

Something stirs among the trees, a tear in reality blacker than even the forest behind it. 

He pauses before confirming, waiting to make sure his eyes don’t deceive him.

There’s an explosion in the area, some poor Shinobi’s blue-tinted chakra exploding outward with a force that could topple buildings. It’s the kind of suicidal gambit Sasuke has only read about in war scrolls, a bit like the opening of the Eighth Gate in Taijutsu. He can’t fathom what must be happening over there for it to merit such a sacrifice.

He braces himself for the impact, even from this far away, because he’s sure the energy release is potent enough to radiate outwards for miles.

It never reaches him. Twenty feet from the focal point of the explosion, it just stops. Snuffed out by something greater. Sasuke realizes with a start that it’s the Kamui, tearing wider than he’s ever seen it before.

He sees where the seam separates out before closing in again, as if the black scar on the land was never there in the first place.

A second passes, and Sasuke desperately scans the battlefield for signs of Obito’s reemergence. He flips his Sharingan on, hoping he can pick out the Uchiha chakra from this far away.

100 feet closer than the last portal, the Kamui reappears, accompanied by a murky chakra signature. 

He tears off in its direction, both Itachi and Kakashi at his side.

When his sandals hit the compact dirt below, Sasuke doesn’t even slow. He’s always been quick, had to be to overpower his bigger and stronger opponents, even if he doesn’t match the running speed of Lee or the Yondaime’s teleportation jutsu.

It doesn’t matter when Sasuke has his Sharingan activated. The world tilts to slow motion like this, every surrounding person’s movements telegraphed across their bodies seconds before any actual impacts can occur.

He’d revel in it, at any other moment. As it is, Sasuke barely cares about the kunai he’s dodging and the blasts of flame he’s avoiding. He’s too focused on the mission.

_Get Obito back_ , just like he trained for. He can’t fail, not when he has Itachi and Kakashi at his side.

He crests another blood-soaked hill, spirits lighter and the semblance of a smile on his face.

When the scene below comes into view, Sasuke stops. He nearly trips, he halts so fast, and he can see the vague shapes of Itachi and Kakashi do the same.

Below, beyond a mess of bodies too mangled to identify, is a familiar face.

Obito slides the knife out of some poor Konoha soldier, his whole body swiveling around slowly to face them. His face comes into view last, but when it does, Sasuke shudders.

There’s nothing familiar about the look he’s fixing them with, nothing resembling the man who raised Sasuke.

His red eyes aren’t even hateful. They’re just blank, glazed over like he’s under some sort of thrall. 

Thanks to Madara’s conditioning, he is.

“Sasuke!” Itachi yells, breaking Sasuke out of his train of thought.

Sasuke turns to his brother and nods. 

They both take off, Sasuke to the left and Itachi to the right. 

Beforehand, they’d decided that flanking Obito was their best chance of getting close to him. Against a lesser opponent or someone less experienced, it might have even worked.

Of _fucking_ course Obito sees right through their ploy. 

He brings up his hands, the signals going by too fast for Sasuke to piece together what he’s made. Obito turns right, and breathes out a fireball so large, Sasuke has to close his eyes at the brightness. He barrels ahead blindly, gasping as he feels his eyebrow hair singe. 

A second passes, maybe two, before Sasuke deems it safe it enough to look. The destruction is jaw-dropping, the ground where Obito had aimed gleaming under the setting sun.

It's glass, Sasuke realizes in shock. The flames were hot enough to turn the sand into glass.

He panics at the thought, already looking for Itachi in the carnage. 

Sasuke spots him further back, about ten feet from the glass trail. He looks okay and must have thrown himself out of the way in time, but the maneuver has cost them precious seconds.

Sasuke’s eyes snap back to Obito, who’s now looking straight at him. 

Logically speaking, it’s easier to use the same attack twice than it is to use a new one. Making hand signs takes time, takes concentration, and can easily translate to fatal stalling in the case of outright battles.

But those sorts of rules don’t apply to Shinobi with specialized weapons or innate abilities. It’s part of the reason why seal-makers like the Uzumakis are so dangerous. They can use pre-prepared attacks to distract while making new hand signals, creating the kind of efficiency that ends fights and wins wars.

Sasuke has never been very good with seal work, and he doesn’t have some innate ability like Shikamaru’s shadows or Uzumaki chains. 

It’s why he assumes Obito will use his fireball attack again, and why he stops running and instead braces himself for the heat that will never come.

Just like the Uzumaki, just like the Nara, Uchihas have innate ability that come with their blood. They require a fully activated Sharingan to operate, but they exist. 

Obito has always made good use of his.

Sasuke figures out what’s wrong just as he hears the tearing of space behind him. The Kamui is too instantaneous for Sasuke to run from, too precise for him to dodge, so Sasuke just waits. A strange sort of despair fills him in that moment, not at all the kind of pre-death peace he’s read so much about.

He stares up at the spreading inky blackness and curses himself for forgetting such an obvious detail so easily. Maybe it will only get a limb or two, or clip a non-vital organ. He could survive that, maybe.

Below Sasuke, the ground shakes.

He’s thrown hard, forward and away from the void a beat before it consumes him.

The world spins, shades of brown and green and black, until only green appears.

Sasuke hits the ground with a loud thump, sprawling out as the wind is knocked out of him.

Kakashi stands above him, hands raised up on the final symbol for an earth jutsu. His two exposed eyes don’t even look down at Sasuke, so Sasuke follows his gaze instead.

All around them, wide, sturdy walls are forming. A maze, or maybe a labyrinth, starts to take shape around Obito, too fast for him to disappear the obstacles with the Kamui.

Further away, Itachi weaves and out of the still forming walls. Sasuke can see it now, how the man-made obstacles are obscuring Obito’s line-of-sight and giving the rest of them some much-needed cover.

The feeling of hope from before trickles back.

They’ll be able to get close if they can keep this up.

Sasuke hauls himself to his feet, already picking out a path among the many rock structures. His ribs must hurt by now but Sasuke can barely feel it, he’s so pumped up on adrenaline.

Another fireball comes roaring out from Obito’s mouth, but Sasuke ducks. He can feel the searing heat beyond his rock covering, and thinks that these aren’t mere fireballs, but miniature suns.

In the time spent waiting for the surrounding earth to cool off, Sasuke wonders how Obito can sustain such dramatic chakra usage. He suspects Madara has removed the natural limits in his head, the self-imposed barriers in every Shinobi’s mind that stop them from burning themselves to exhaustion.

Sasuke curses as he steps out and away from the wall. He knew they were racing against the clock here, but he thought it was more so that Obito wouldn’t have chance to kill them.

At the rate this is going, and with Kakashi’s intervention, they might need to start worrying more about Obito killing himself than the rest of them.

Sasuke inches closer and closer. He risks taking his eyes off Obito to look to his right and sees the dark shape of Itachi, making similar progress. Kakashi isn’t within his sightlines, but Sasuke’s sure he’s close by.

He leaps past another wall before the Kamui can bisect him.

Sasuke pauses once more, the sounds of the battlefield a distant hum. Once of the first principles a Shinobi must learn is to listen and wait, even when everything seems overwhelming and inscrutable. Crouching low, with his entire world reduced down to the creeping shadows of night and the earthen mound before him, Sasuke does just that. He must be less than ten steps away from Obito by now, well within the range for fatal blows. He holds still, schooling his breathing so that he won’t be heard.

It’s pure instinct that tells him to act next, a holdover from his years of training or field experience, maybe even some sort of generational knowledge passed on from his parents and their parents before them. Whatever the reason, Sasuke knows in this moment that he needs to act.

He throws himself past the few remaining walls, directly into Obito’s sightline. It’s a suicidal move, the kind that pays off in stories more than it ever does in real life. Sasuke follows through anyways.

Sasuke can see Obito’s nightmarish eyes up close like this, can see how his former guardian tenses and inhales sharply, a minute preparation for the Kamui that will surely kill him. 

The attack never comes. Instead, a great rumbling below their feet rises up, engulfing Obito’s legs in rock. From just over Obito’s shoulder, Sasuke can see Kakashi with his hands up, maintaining the jutsu. 

Itachi is there too, about as far from Obito but about 90 degrees off from Sasuke’s own direction. Sasuke almost smiles, he’s so relieved. It seems like his instinct was right after all.

Wordlessly, he and Itachi draw closer. Obito thrashes around in front of them, more animal than human, and Sasuke steels himself.

“Just like we practiced,” Itachi murmurs, reaching out with a steady hand to pull Obito’s head back.

“Right,” says Sasuke. 

Kakashi stands back, his body language shifting to defensive as he prepares to guard them from outside distractions.

He can feel the spike in chakra around them as Itachi ignites his genjutsu, can see the moment both Obito and Itachi go still as Itachi jumps inside his mind.

Sasuke follows.

\----

Sasuke has been in Obito’s mind before. He supposes that says more about Obito than it does about him, because Obito was still willing to let him in after all the mental anguish and torment he had experienced at Madara’s hands. Sasuke didn’t see it that way at the time. He was just an overeager Genin, excited to learn how to use his Sharingan abilities to their fullest potential. 

Obito’s mind was always a place of refuge, meant for training and inner peace and fond remembrances of a much simpler time. The great branches of his tree were sturdy and secure, memories clustering along them like gentle leaves. Obito’s tree was shady and cool, the roots wide and intricate. 

Now, it is dark and cloudy, the haze layered over Sasuke’s surroundings eerily reminiscent of the pollution from a crowded city. The roots have grown gnarled and thorny, and Sasuke forces himself to walk slowly through them so he does not stab his feet.

He nears the base of the tree, which steadily comes into view through the smoke, and gasps in horror at what he sees there.

The great tree has withered from inside out, its bark dripping and rotting through. He can see the places where Madara’s influence has broken through the outer ring, the clusters of corruption glowing red like boils. 

Even Naruto’s mind was more intact than this, study walls and iron chains keeping the place protected from the Kyuubi’s rampages. Madara, it seems, has left no stone unturned in his destruction of Obito’s will.

Sasuke can imagine it now, Obito at twelve years old and in Madara’s clutches. The tree would have been more like a sapling then, all twigs and future potential. Madara would have laid down the seeds of his control very carefully, nothing larger than small cuts along the trees and roots. It would have been a subtle manipulation, the kind an Uchiha or Yamanaka couldn't have spotted. Obito wouldn’t know it was there either, perfectly content as bark grew over the small scars and the tree grew taller and stronger. 

When Madara found them, he must have called forth those old cuts, sitting back as they sprung forth and leeched the life and power of Obito’s core self. 

Sasuke’s hands shake with anger and grief.

“Sasuke!”

He whirls around, only to find Itachi there, a hand extended and a gentle look in his eyes. Sasuke blinks back tears, hoping his brother can’t see them through the dense smog.

“We should hurry,” Itachi says. “The longer we're here, the more vulnerable we’ll be outside.”

Sasuke nods. He thinks that if he tries to speak, his voice will fail him.

Slowly, he gathers chakra into his hands, letting it condense into something more material.

A blade, about three times as long as a paring knife but crafted with the same intention, rests in the palm of his hand. He knows it’s not Kusanagi but it balances in an eerily similar way. The weight gives him a much-needed rush of confidence. 

Sasuke turns to the nearest boil and gets to work, letting his hands fly as he severs the infection from the bark beneath.

Somewhere far up above, Itachi does the same.

\----

Time is fickle in a Genjutsu. The general rule of thumb is that the more powerful the caster, the more timeless it feels. When someone with a Mangekyou Sharingan, like Itachi, casts one, it’s anyone’s guess how many milliseconds of years have passed by. Only Itachi can tell, and he probably only has a vague estimate based on the pain levels in his eyes.

Sasuke wipes a bead of sweat from his brow, pulling his blade down as the blob of corruption below begins to bleed and sag. 

He takes a moment to study his surroundings, noting how they’ve cleared about two-thirds of the trees so far. Itachi hasn’t commented on their pace, but Sasuke is getting worried about how long this is taking. Would it be worth it for Itachi to dispel the Genjutsu and for Sasuke to cast it, so that they’re not thrown out abruptly?

Sasuke looks for a head of black hair among the branches. 

He spots Itachi about twenty feet above and to his right, back turned as he cuts away at a particularly large boil.

Sasuke waits for the thing to begin melting before he calls out.

“Itachi!” He yells, not sure his brother can hear him at a softer volume. “How much time do we have?”

Itachi cranes his head around at what must be an uncomfortable angle, peering through loose black hair. He smiles, and leaps down in a sudden motion. Sasuke scoots aside on his branch, making room for him.

Itachi lands with a flourish, bending into a bow. It's the kind of thing that would annoy Sasuke on the battlefield, but in a moment as tense as this, it’s almost welcome. He wonders for a second if Itahci’s going to try that stupid forehead poke thing from when they were children before discarding the notion. It’s a silly idea.

“It hurts that you doubt my abilities, little brother,” Itachi says, voice even and a tad bit condescending. There’s a glint in his eye like he knows exactly what he’s saying.

Sasuke throws his hands up.

“Just give me a time estimate!”

Itachi straightens up, back to business the moment he hears Sasuke’s frustrated tone.

“If we keep up this pace, we’ll have more than enough time to leave. I’ll probably even have enough chakra to join the fight afterwards.”

Sasuke nods. That’s exactly what he wanted to hear.

Well, the reminder that Konoha is facing greater problems that Obito’s forced defection isn’t great, but Sasuke can cross that bridge when he comes to it. By then, he’ll have his family at his side.

“Ok, well, if you wanted to switch spots, I can—”

Itachi holds up a hand, silencing Sasuke in an abrupt motion. 

Sasuke lifts his knife by instinct alone.

Itachi stills, his eyes fixed on some distant point Sasuke can’t pick out.

“Do you feel that?” Itachi whispers.

“Feel what?” Sasuke replies, voice barely carrying two feet.

“Something is wrong.”. 

Before Sasuke can ask for clarification, before he can even pick up on the sense of wrongness that Itachi is bothered by, a great snap, almost like a crack of thunder sounds below.

Sasuke whips around, but it’s already too late, because the branch between his and Itachi has snapped in half and the outer edge has gone tumbling into the void down below, Itachi with it.

Sasuke lowers a hand but it's futile, and the last thing he sees is Itachi’s hand stretching out towards his as it gets smaller and smaller, tumbling into an inky black void where the roots of the tree once laid.

Sasuke feels the branch below him quaking and instinctively, he leaps towards the trunk. His feet give way below just as his hands grasp for purchase, just barely clinging to the trunk as momentum drags him down about a foot.

He can feel his palms bleeding now, skin torn clean as they slid down the tree, but Sasuke doesn’t care. He needs to climb.

He’s quick and efficient about it, Shinobi instincts kicking in.

In the end, it doesn’t matter.

The tree is disappearing into the darkness faster than Sasuke can flee, and he knows it.

Taking one last look at all the boils above, Sasuke fishes out his knife with one hand. He stabs a wide length of corruption above him and lets it bleed out over him. 

The blackness overtakes his body.

\----

The ground is wet, he notes. 

Sasuke feels a great ache at his temples, and groans in pain. The last thing he remembers is darkness, and before that, nothing.

Slowly, painstakingly, he opens his eyes.

It’s dark out, or maybe his eyes aren’t adjusted, but Sasuke thinks he’s staring up at the night sky. Blurry shadows gather at the edges of his vision, and Sasuke hopes and prays they’re trees and not something far more sinister.

He’d switch on his Sharingan to get a better picture, but something is telling Sasuke to hold back, to conserve his strength.

He clenches his fists and releases, focusing on willing away the tingling sensation in his fingers.

_Get it together, Sasuke._

A figure appears before him, dark and imposing and familiar. Like family. 

For his safety, he hopes they don’t come any closer.

“Sasuke,” the man says.

Too late for him to run now. 

He takes a leap of faith.

“Obito?”

The man smiles.

“Sasuke,” he breathes. He holds out his arms in an embrace.

Sasuke stills as the stranger wraps his arms around him. His memory is still fuzzy, but he does know this man in some way. The long, dark hair, the red eyes, the deep voice...he can feel hope flaring in his chest.

Maybe it really is Obito.

The man—Obito—breaks the hug, noticing that Sasuke isn’t reciprocating. He doesn’t seem too bothered by it. Sasuke supposes that’s normal. When he thinks of Obito, he feels a certain twinge of regret. Maybe things have been strained between them lately.

“Come on, Sasuke,” he says. “We need to get out of here.” His eyes glow with a certain urgency, and his voice is smooth, soothing to Sasuke’s ears.

Sasuke feels tired, very suddenly. It makes sense, he supposes. If he’d been using his Sharingan before, if he’d been fighting before—

_That’s right._

He’d been fighting before.

He shakes his head, trying to clear the fuzz. 

What was he doing here?

Family. He needs to save his family.

Who is his family again?

Obito, first and foremost. Another figure pops into his head, a shock of white hair and a dark mask—Kakashi.

There’s someone else, too. Someone who looks more like him than Obito, with long hair and long limbs, who makes him sad and happy in equal turn.

The name comes to him.

Itachi. He can’t leave without his brother Itachi.

“Hold on, Obito,” he pushes back. “We have to find Kakashi and Itachi. They should be around here somewhere.” 

Obito shakes his head, mouth drawing into a line of displeasure. It pulls at the wrinkles around his face, aging him decades.

“There’s no time. Madara could be anywhere.”

The name strikes fear into his heart, enough to get Sasuke up and moving.

He lets Obito wrangle him up from the ground and into a support position. Obito’s padded armor pokes into his side and Sasuke wants to ask him where he found such a strange article of clothing. He casts the question aside, realizing that if the situation really is so dire, this is not the time.

He eyes the cracks across Obito’s entire face, like a piece of pottery glued back together. There’s a story that accompanies the “scars.” Some sort of tragic childhood injury, if he’s remembering correctly. It’s hard, with the fog that clouds his thinking.

Something to do with Madara perhaps?

There’s motion on the ridge far above them, as three figures come into view. He can’t quite make them out in the dark from this far away, but he can feel their chakra radiating from this far away.

Each is distinct but powerful. Cool and controlled for one, like a cold breeze. Focused and ancient for another, like an old master at work. The last one is stranger, like it’s traveled from very far away to be here. It’s fiery, in a warm and comforting sort of way.

“Get down!” Whisper-hisses Obito, throwing Sasuke to the side as he crouches.

Sasuke lands in a heap a body’s length away from Obito. He picks his head up and scowls, waiting in silence until the three figures retreat. 

“Who are they?” He asks, a little frantic and a hell of a lot more confused.

Obito’s eyes are angry and unflinching as they stare back.

“Enemies. They seek to destroy us under Madara’s orders, without hesitation or remorse.”

He fingers a kunai at his waist.

“We’ll have to kill them soon.”

Sasuke gulps. Something about the statement feels wrong. 

Perhaps he’s never taken a life before.

Eventually, their stench drifts far enough away that Obito feels confident about moving again. Sasuke follows, a step more uncertain and still confused about what’s happening here.

They walk for about two minutes when the next interruption occurs.

Sasuke spots it first, a figure off to their rear with blazing red eyes and long dark hair.

He turns to yell warning to Obito, but the man charges before he gets the chance. Sasuke braces himself with his kunai but the man is fast, so much faster than Sasuke is. His arms don’t seem to want to raise in defense.

Sasuke closes his eyes upon the impact.

It never comes.

Instead, there is a mighty push against his back, launching him into the air and outwards.

Sasuke lands in a heap, partially on grass and partially on something softer.

He hears a loud groan below, and stares in surprise at what he finds: the shadowy figure from before, his would be murderer, lying partially below him like a man-made cushion.

Sasuke digs out the kunai from his hip holster despite the screaming protest of his muscles and holds it to the man’s throat.

“Who the hell are you?” He roars. A bit over the top maybe, but Sasuke is confused, tired, and most importantly, afraid. Obito is nowhere in sight.

“I..tachi,” the man breathes out below.

Sasuke’s narrow, and he presses the kunai closer. His hands tremble for reasons he can’t quite understand.

“Explain.”

“Madara...interrupted Genjutsu...Obito...Kakashi...disappeared with Kamui...looking for...you.”

Obito and Kakashi.

If Obito and Kakashi were off in another dimension, then who the hell was Sasuke traveling with?

Like a twig snapping, the Genjutsu breaks. 

The fog disappears from Sasuke’s mind, and he is left reeling as he remembers.

He pulls the kunai from Itachi’s throat quicker than he pushed it forward, trying not to retch as he realizes how close he came to killing his own brother.

“You mean that...man was Madara?” He asks, voice shaky and quiet under the distant roar of battle.

Itachi nods. He looks tired, and older than he has in a long time. 

Sasuke sighs and resists the urge to pinch at his forehead the way he’s seen Tsunade, and more recently Sakura, do in frustration.

“Right,” he says breathlessly. “So, what do we do next?”

Itachi doesn’t quite smile, but something in his expression lightens up.

“You can get off of me, to start.”

Sasuke nods, picking himself up and dusting off his (sweat-stained, tattered) clothes. Itachi doesn’t look much better, so Sasuke extends a hand to his brother to help him up too.

Itachi takes it with a grimace, getting shakily to his feet. He takes a moment to look around, bleary eyes taking in their surroundings. Sasuke does the same.

He can feel no trace of what he now realizes were the Hokage, Tsunade, and Kushina’s chakra signatures. Madara, too, is gone.

Sasuke tries not to dwell on what Obito and Kakashi may be up to. As of right now, he has no way of getting to the Kamui dimension. The feeling of being powerless never gets any easier.

“What the hell was that thing that hit us,” he asks, once the coast is clear. He can already feel the bruising setting in, maybe even a cracked rib or two. He can’t imagine how Itachi must feel, looking ten times worse than Sasuke.

Itachi frowns, eyes still fixed on the horizon and Sharingan activated. 

“A mild version of the Susanoo.”

Sasuke whistles.

“Shit.”

Itachi runs a hand through his hair.

“Yeah. Madara was probably conserving his chakra for later. We caught him off-guard enough that he didn’t manage to land a direct hit.”

Sasuke tries to imagine it. 

A force so powerful it can shatter bones when turned down. Instantly summonable, and massive, judging from how it hit Sasuke and Itachi.

He’s starting to worry that his plan to counter it might not work.

“You’re thinking,” Itachi says, a guarded suspicion in his voice.

Sasuke startles.

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Itachi flicks his forehead.

“Care to share with the rest of the class?”

Sasuke scowls, but feels his heart lighten at his brother’s demeanour all the same.

No harm in doing so, he supposes. If there’s anyone who’s worked at earning Sasuke’s trust, it’s Itachi.

“I may have a plan in the works for taking down Madara.”

Itachi breathes out slowly.

“Really?”

Sasuke nods. “It’s not perfect, and we have to locate it in the first place, but it might just be our only chance to stop him.”

Itachi’s smile spreads. There’s something like hope in his eyes.

“Then lead the way, baby brother.”

\----

It goes like this:

Sasuke and Itachi set off to find Sasuke’s secret plan. It’s disguised, of course, and probably in the heat of battle, so they have to walk quite aways to get close to it.

They’re both off their game.

Sasuke is emotionally exhausted, has been for what feels like his entire life. A headache is starting to pound at the back of his head from all these Genjutsus he’s getting caught in, and his physical body is dead on its feet in the way that only happens after a two-week-long A Class mission.

Itachi isn’t faring much better. He shuts off his Sharingan pretty quickly after they head out, worried he won’t have enough chakra to sustain it if they engage in another battle. The presence of his brother reassures him, soothes him in a way he’s hesitant to admit aloud, for fear he’ll ruin the peace between them. Spending one’s entire life living for a single promise will do that to a person.

As of right now, Itachi’s highest priority is getting his brother out of here alive.

They don’t see the man as he crosses the ridge just before them. He is older and more experienced than the brothers combined, age tempered by a vast pool of unnaturally-enhanced chakra. 

He is a coward and a kin-killer, and against all odds, these boys terrify him. 

Madara strikes without second thought.

The Susanoo roars forward, two swords held out in a deadly phantasmic swipe towards their targets.

Sasuke, by some twist of circumstances and luck, dips low a split-second before impact. He feels as the sword swipes past the top of his head, inhales sharply as it cuts off a few loose strands of hair.

Beside him, Itachi falls in a wet heap.

Sasuke screams.

The hillside erupts into flames, and Madara makes his escape in the moment of distraction. An unfortunate miss, sure, but he has no intention of succumbing to smoke inhalation while engaged with an inferior opponent.

Sasuke turns to Itachi then, ignorant of the way the field of grass smolders and spreads out from his epicenter.

“Itachi,” he whispers. “Get up.”

Itachi is crumpled over, hands clutching at his midsection, and breathing far, far too slowly for Sasuke’s liking.

Sasuke has first aid training. All Shinobi do, but unlike most Shinobi, he learned from the best Medic-Nin in the world.

He can fix this. He has to fix this.

He starts to peel Itachi’s hands away from his stomach but stops when a waterfall of blood gushes out from the vacancy.

Sasuke goes quiet.

Gingerly, he pushes Itachi’s hands back into their resting spot, securing them with his own red-stained pair.

Through the darkness, he can make out the shapes of intestines pressing through Itachi’s flak vest. His vision goes blurrier, and Sasuke tries to blink away the tears.

“Itachi,” he whispers more forcefully. Itachi’s unfocused eyes land on his face.

“Yes?”

“I need you to stay as still as possible. If we keep the wound closed—”

Sasuke is interrupted by a sudden shifting on Itachi’s part, as he wrestles a hand away from his midsection.

Sasuke tries to stop him, but his hands are slippery.

“Please,” he starts to sob, “just stay still.”

Itachi wheezes out a smile.

“We can still fix this, Itachi,” Sasuke insists.

This can’t be happening. 

This isn’t happening.

Itachi shakes his head absently, flexing the freed hand like he can barely feel motion in it anymore.

Sasuke winces as Itachi brings his hand close to Sasuke’s hung head.

A finger pokes at his forehead, familiar and teasing. 

A tear drops from above onto Itachi’s face, clearing the dirt-stained skin there. Sasuke would wipe it away, but he can’t move his hands.

Itachi smiles again, but partway through, there’s a loud gurgling sound, and Itachi thrashes as his body is overtaken by coughs.

Sasuke loses his grip on Itachi’s torso, plugging the wound back up a moment later. Iy’s too late, the extent of the injury too large for Sasuke to slow it. The blood is pooling all around them now, soaking through Sasuke’s pants. Seeping into his fingernails.

“Please,” he begs.

He doesn’t know what he’s asking for anymore.

Itachi breathes heavy one last time. His voice is surprisingly clear when he speaks next, though nowhere near the gentle lilt he adopts in normal conversation.

“Thank you.”

Itachi goes still.

\----

The headache at the back of Sasuke’s head comes back tenfold, and the tears fall freely now. When they land on his brother’s forehead, they are not clear like water, but red like blood.

He feels something stirring with the pain, a sensation he’s never felt.

\----

Around the two figures, the smoldering field bursts into fire again.

This time, it’s black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh. I kinda dropped off the face of the earth there for a while. I have reasons and excuses, but those don't really matter. Just know that I am determined to finish this story till the bitter end :)


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